Say When
by Joker is Poker with a J
Summary: Beaten, betrayed, angry and bitter Spot Conlon wakes up on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar apartment and is about to get a life lesson on family, trust and love. That is, if he can let go of the past.
1. It all began with the man and country

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**It all began with the man and country"**_

To Spot Conlon, today was any other day. The breeze off the East River was calmer than usual but spring was in the air and the trees in Prospect Park were already beginning to bud. His stomach churned in anticipation for the coming summer. The winter had been long and harsh, lasting until the end of March and he was more than ready for the warmer weather.

Now, as they hit the middle of April, things were beginning to look up. Spot walked down the street to his selling spot, confident at this moment in who he was, secure in the knowledge that he was the King of Brooklyn and the most famous newsie in New York…and probably everywhere else. He hadn't lost a fight since he was ten, had been leader for close to four years now and could have pretty much any dame he set his sights on.

It was good to be the King.

He smirked as he began to hawk headlines. Being a newsie wasn't easy, only the roughest could sell in Brooklyn. So, as the leader he had to be the toughest and any sign of weakness would have him run out of Brooklyn faster than you could say his name.

The day past quickly and as he finished the afternoon edition he headed towards the docks. The boys that skipped the afternoon edition were already there, splashing in the river or playing a game of poker on the crates. He made his way through the crowd, nodding to a few of the boys as he headed to the end of the dock where he usually sat to observe the goings-on.

Lately, things had been pretty slow. The excitement of the strike had long died out and the peace between boroughs was still going strong. Under the surface, though, he could sense a certain restlessness about his boys although he could not pinpoint where its source was.

For some reason his gaze snagged on Lighter, who was talking quietly to Hint and Midnight. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced to his right and caught site of his most trusted newsie, Ruckus. Ruckus was not his second in command for the simple fact that Spot wanted the newsie as far from being connected to him as possible. If others thought he was the one he depended on the most, Ruckus wouldn't know half the stuff he knew. With a little spy like him Spot could usually squash an uprising before it started.

"Ruckus." He said quietly, letting his gaze pass over the small newsie. Ruckus was fifteen but had yet to reach a growth spurt. He was clumsy, gangly and often times causing a ruckus which was how he'd gotten his name. His dark brown hair was usually in a state of complete chaos and his grey eyes were shifty in a nervous kind of way.

"Spot." He murmured in reply, knowing when Spot didn't want others to know they were conversing. No one was paying them that close of attention, anyhow.

"Lightah plannin' somethin'?"

Ruckus' eyes shifted towards the person in question, took in the deep, concentrated conversation before shifting on pass them. "No idea. Ise'll woik on it and git back ta ya."

"Dat's ya priority at da moment." Spot leaned back; stretching out slightly in a pose that made him look relaxed but that was actually the opposite to how he really felt. Something was wrong and he could feel it. He also didn't like it one bit.

Betrayal, luckily, was something he'd dealt with all his life. It was why he was a good leader, he didn't trust anybody. All you could trust was being stabbed in the back.

He clenched his jaw as he suppressed the feelings and memories that tried to push their way for the forefront of his mind. It had gotten much easier with time, locking these away, but the warning in his stomach that things were wrong in Brooklyn was making that harder to do. Growling lowly, praying for just a little patience, he stood up, grabbed his cane and strode down the dock in long, angry strides.

One look at his face had everyone stepping out of his way.

The Brooklyn leader let his feet take him to his favorite place, the one location that would clear his head and set him right; the Brooklyn Bridge. He walked along it until he reached the middle and then leaned over the railing to watch the sun as it began to fall lower in the sky.

The days were getting longer; the breeze ruffled his hair after he took off his cap and stuffed it in his back pocket. He gazed down at the water. Being here, on this bridge, truly made him realize how small and insignificant he was. The river didn't care if he was the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, it would just as soon drown him. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair and watched the sun, realizing just how lonely it was to be him. Yeah, he had his boys most days and the nights could be filled with a willing broad but there was nothing to fill up the emptiness. No substance that made this worth it.

Not that these ponderings were making his mood any better, he told himself and tried to switch his thoughts to another matter at hand. Except the only other matter at hand was the fact that there may or may not be a mutiny boiling under the surface of his newsies. He was sure it wasn't anything he'd done. He wasn't a democracy like Manhattan, but he wasn't a complete tyrant. They were allowed to come and go as they pleased during the day, he only asked them to be back by ten so they could get up to sell papes in the morning. It was a rule even he followed.

He trained them all in fighting, using a slingshot and selling papes and most often than not he was the main instructor. It's not like he didn't treat them like human beings, he knew all their names and if any got really sick he made sure they got better as best he could.

He threw out the idea that it had anything to do with him as he watched the last bit of the sun fall away. Darkness began to settle around the city as he slowly made his way back towards the lodging house that was only a few blocks farther than the docks. Spot kept a keen eye out for any drunks or punks that wanted to pick a fight but for the majority of the walk it was quiet.

As soon as he passed the docks and made it onto a street lined with apartments he heard a noise from a nearby alley. "Ow!" Exclaimed a voice he instantly recognized as Ruckus. Worried, he headed down the lane and came upon Ruckus being held against the wall by Lighter.

"Whatya say, Lightah? Wanna drop da kid?" Spot said, leaning his hands on the top of his cane, his legs spread slightly, prepared for a fight.

Lighter turned to gaze at Spot, a smirk forming on the edge of his lips, "T'ought ya'd come ta rescue dis useless garbage." He pushed Ruckus away easily and turned to Spot. "I has a proposition foah ya, Conlon."

"My, dat's a big woid foah ya, Lightah. Good t'ing ya didn't stumble ovah it. Woulda made me doubt ya intelligence." Spot replied, cocking an eyebrow before adding, "Oh, wait. I'm doubtin' it right now."

He couldn't see in the darkness, but he was pretty sure Lighter's face had turned beat red, "Ya t'ink ya such a smart ass, dontcha Conlon? Well, I'll tell ya some of us is sick of it."

"I do, actually." Spot smirked slightly, "Sick of me, huh? Whatya gonna do 'bout it, Lightah? T'ink ya can beat me in a fair fight?"

Lighter stepped closer and Spot could see the self-satisfied smile on his face, "Ya know, Conlon, I don't t'ink I can. Which is why it ain't gonna be fair." He paused for effect, "Boys?"

Spot took in the faces around him. There were four others, two of which were Hint and Midnight. The other two, one his own second, Shine, and the last, a newer newsie who was huge, brawny and so dubbed Tiny.

"Et tu, Shine?" Spot joked, knowing none of them would know what he referenced. A long time ago he'd pick pocketed an old bag and had come up with nothing but a ticket to a play, 'Julius Caesar' and though most of it had gone over his head he had always remembered the scene where Caesar is betrayed by his right hand man Brutus, among others. Any fellah would remember that scene.

"Get him." Lighter ordered, and Spot immediately began to defend himself. Even though going against five guys was more than he could manage, he wasn't going down without a fight.

Before Shine could reach him, he extended his arm and let his cane trip up the boy before he whirled around and ducked a punch from someone else. He once again lashed out with his cane and managed to catch Lighter in the gut right before someone; Midnight perhaps, landed a blow to his face. Ignoring the pain, he tried to whip his cane around for another attack but Lighter managed to grab a hold of it and yanked it from his grasp as Tiny grabbed his free arm and twisted it back until there was sickening crunch.

Pain blossomed up his arm causing him to gasp and nearly vomit. Dizziness swept over him and he felt close to passing out. Luckily, he was use to the pain and turned in time to land a nice blow to the newsies face. Hopefully, he'd have a nice shiner to remember him by. Stumbling back, Spot glared at the five, "Dat all ya got? Old ladies fight betta den you guys."

They didn't like to hear that and so they all came barreling at him. He fought back for awhile but it was hard with one arm hindering him and once they pinned him to the ground his vision started to blur. Struggling half heartedly, he wondered if this was how it was going to end. Just another street rat dead in the gutter as his name was slowly forgotten. How humiliating, losing Brooklyn and his kingship this way; beaten to death by five power-hungry guys.

After a while of their incessant beating, kicks and punches to the ribs, face and legs, a sound startled the boys. "Cheese it, it's da bulls!" Lighter exclaimed, and Spot heard their footsteps grow farther away. Lighter stayed back long enough to grab Spot's cane and slingshot from where they had fallen, "Enjoy hell, Conlon." He muttered, pulling out a knife to cut off the key that hung around his neck before moving to plunge the knife into Spot, who only stared back. Before he could give his last blow, a figure launched themselves on his back causing him to drop the knife as they pounded on his back bringing him down to the ground. Roughly, Ruckus grabbed the guy by his hair and smashed his head on the cobblestones and the traitor groaned before slipping into unconsciousness.

The Brooklyn leader was vaguely surprised at the speed in which the gangly youth took Lighter down as Ruckus moved towards where he lay, "Spot?" Ruckus asked hesitantly.

Spot was almost numb with the amount of pain he was in, "Get…" He inhaled and found it hard to do, "to bridge."

"You want to go to the bridge?" Ruckus asked, looking at Spot as if he were nuts.

Exhaling slowly, Spot winced as Ruckus moved to make him sit up. There was definitely damage to his ribs, whether bruised or broken he couldn't tell. "Need…ta get ta…Manhattan."

Ruckus wrinkled his brow, "But, ya alive!"

"Ruckus." He said sharply and then groaned at the pain, "Help me."

The grey eyed boy smacked his head, "Of course. Don't question ya. I know. I just don't undahstand. Come on." He helped up Spot as carefully as he could, which was not nearly as carefully as Spot would have liked, and helped him to the bridge. It was slow going and took awhile and by the time they reached Manhattan territory Spot felt ready to give into the blissful unconsciousness that was beginning to cloud his mind.

"Go back ta Brooklyn. Ise don't…" he gasped for air before continuing, "don't want dem ta know ya…helped."

"Ya shoah, Spot?" Ruckus asked, looking worried.

Spot shot him a glare, "Just do as I tell ya."

He nodded, "Right. I'll be back in a week ta check on ya."

"Only if it's safe." Spot added and leaned on the railing as Ruckus slipped into the darkness quietly, which was such a difference from his usual clumsy self. Spot wondered briefly if the kid had more depth than he'd previously given him credit for.

When all was silent, Spot finally started to move slowly into Manhattan but about a block or so in he found himself clutching the wall of a building. In the back of his thoughts he heard a bird's song and he wondered briefly what a bird was doing out so late in the night.

Ignoring the noise, he moved forward but found himself stumbling and finally falling to the ground. He gave a groan of pain but continued to lie there, wondering if this was it. At least he wouldn't have to live with the humiliation of it all.

"Oh my!" A voice exclaimed and he tried to ignore it but couldn't as she rolled him over onto his back.

Her nimble hands ran over him, first they touched his throat and he was shocked at how warm they were before he remembered why he was even in Manhattan. Groaning, he forced his eyes open though he hadn't been aware they had been closed and met bright, green eyes "J…ack." Was all he managed to get out as pain assailed him and he closed his eyes, grimacing.

"Where does it hurt?" She asked.

If he hadn't been in agony, he'd have given her the smart ass reply of, 'everywhere.' But even that was too much.

Softly, he felt her brush his hair from his forehead and he suddenly felt angry at her kindness. He didn't need nor want her pity. He tried unsuccessfully to push her away before remembering that Tiny had broken that arm.

"Hang in there. I'm going to get help." She whispered.

"No. No help." He managed to get out as he growled one last time before slipping into unconsciousness…

**A/N: Every chapter's title is a line from the song 'Say When' by The Fray. Lemme know what you all think! Review!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.  
><strong>


	2. Come across you lost and broken

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**Come across you lost and broken"**_

"I wonder how many people never get the one they want, but end up with the one they're supposed to have.*" Naomi's mother, Lily Snow, wondered aloud as she stirred flour into the beef stew to thicken it.

The girl rolled her eyes at her mother's back as she set out the three bowls but she made no move to answer. Her mother was the type of person who mused out loud just to hear her own voice; this was the unfortunate result of being brought up as the only daughter to two very wealthy and doting parents.

"Bea, dinner!" Naomi called as she finished setting the table and her mother took the stew off the flame.

Naomi watched her mother as she spooned stew into each bowl. Father had always told her when she was little how it had been hard for her mother to transition from the lap of luxury to being a working lady but Naomi thought the life her mother had chosen had only succeeded in making her into a more wonderful person.

She had been sixteen, a year younger than Naomi was now, when she had fallen in love with Naomi's father, Todd Snow and had married him. "It was like being hit by a train. You're crippled with the feelings and afterwards…you're never the same." Lily had once told a very young Naomi. "You'll feel it one day, as will Beatrice. We Henry women are known for finding our true love. It goes back to your great-great-great grandmother." Her mother was also irritatingly optimistic, a trait that had skipped Naomi but not her younger sister, Bea.

Beatrice came skipping in from the room she shared with their mother and smiled at Naomi sweetly, her green eyes, a feature both of them shared with their mother, wide and innocent. At twelve years old, Naomi's younger sister was already beginning to flourish into a beautiful lady and was almost a carbon copy of their mother; the eyes, the blonde hair and the need to say every thought that crossed their minds.

"Naomi! Mrs. Levy took Anne and me to Central Park today!" She told me, excitedly as she began to shovel the stew into her mouth.

"Bea, eat slower. You're hardly starving." Lily chastised, "I didn't raise you as a heathen."

Bea smiled sweetly in reply, but slowed down her eating, "We fed the ducks some bread and-"

"Chew with your mouth shut." Their mother added.

Pausing, Bea slowly chewed her food before continuing, "And we went into a lady's dress shop where they had the most beautiful dresses. I liked this pale green one, but Anne liked this pink one that had ruffles that I personally didn't like."

Naomi hid a smile as her sister continued to talk. She hadn't been farther than Mrs. Levy's kitchen the last few months, so getting out was rather exciting for her. Mrs. Levy had been a friend of her grandparents who had offered to watch Bea during the day when their mother worked as a nurse and Naomi was out doing errands for their neighbor Mr. Simon.

Bea switched topics and began to tell their mother about the boy she'd bought a paper from today. Naomi sighed, and finished her stew. All her sister could ever talk about was boys.

Excusing herself she took her bowl over to the sink to wash it, rinse it and dry it before putting it away. Her mother and sister continued to chat away as she grabbed the pail in the corner of the sitting room and headed out the window, up the fire escape and climbed onto the roof.

There, sitting on the ledge was a starling. It had glossy black feathers outlined with orange. White dots speckled all over it and the feathers on its throat were a vibrant purple. In the deepening twilight it cocked its head, eyeing her up as she walked over to it. She didn't even hesitate; she knew he wouldn't fly away from her. Whistling softly to him, she scooped up bird seed and spread it on the ledge before sitting down next to him and watching him as he began to eat.

She had named him Mortimer after the Lord Mortimer in Shakespeare's Henry the IV, her favorite play, because of Hotspur's line about getting a Starling to say 'Mortimer' because the King forbid him from saying it.

About the time her father died two years ago, Naomi had found a few boys torturing the poor creature because his wing had been broken. Luckily, she had scared them away before they could do any real damage and had lovingly nursed the bird back to health. He could fly again, but he'd chosen to stay near her; never going too far from their building. During the winter, Naomi's mother had grudgingly agreed to let him stay inside but once it got warmer out she had insisted he would be fine. Still, Naomi often brought him inside during the days when she had no errands and wanted a little company.

Once he ate his fill, he began to climb up her arm and stopped to perch on her shoulder. Naomi giggled lightly as he pecked her ear gently. Giving in, she softly repeated the lines he seemed to love to hear, "When he lies asleep, And in his ear I'll holla 'Mortimer!' Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him, To keep his anger still in motion."

Mortimer ruffled his feathers contently and they sat there together watching the sunset fade to the darkness of night. The Brooklyn Bridge, which was only a block or so from her apartment, loomed against the dark sky like a large, imposing giant. Here on the roof was one of the greatest views of the bridge, a view she personally loved.

"Naomi?" Her mother's soft whisper reached her ears on the roof and she realized she'd been up there a lot longer than she had planned. Softly, she took Mortimer off her shoulder and set him on the ledge.

"Coming." She whispered to her mother before she pet Mortimer on the head, "I'll see you in the morning, Morty." She told him although she knew it was silly to talk to a bird but she always felt like he understood to a certain extent.

He tweeted softly and gently nipped her finger in a kiss good bye. She smiled before hurrying down the fire escape and climbing into the sitting room window.

"Good night, Naomi." Her mother said, smiling at her in a knowing way. She kissed her on the forehead and went into the only bedroom in their tiny apartment, the room she shared with Beatrice.

"Good night." Naomi replied before making her bed on the couch that sat in the living room. It was the only furniture they'd kept from her grandparent's house after they both had passed away five years ago. Sometimes, late at night, Naomi could almost remember exactly how their house use to smell; cinnamon, vanilla and the faintest trace of fire from the fireplace they'd always kept lit. Memories of playing in their backyard, sitting on her grandpap's lap, baking cookies with her grandmother even though they could afford a cook would gently put her to sleep.

Just as she was falling into a deep sleep a noise at the window startled her awake. Sitting up, she looked around groggily until the noise, a beak on the glass she'd later realize, sounded again followed by the singing of a bird. "Mortimer!" She exclaimed, hurrying over to the window. She pushed it opened and there he was, perched on the fire escape.

"What's wrong?" Naomi whispered, realizing how ridiculous it was to ask him because he couldn't reply.

Mortimer twittered at her in an agitated way before moving along the fire escape and leaning his head down to the alley below. The same alley she had found him in two years ago. Crawling onto the fire escape she peered over the edge as a figured stumbled by the mouth of the alley. They hugged the corner of the building next door, pausing to rest for a moment before attempting to continue on only to stagger into the alley and collapse on the ground, groaning.

Gasping, Naomi quickly climbed back through the window, hurried to the front door to unlock it and rush down the two flights of stairs to come out the front of the building. She turned to the right and then down the alley, nearly stumbling over the body. "Oh my!" She exclaimed, immediately falling to her knees to lean over the person.

It was a boy, very close to manhood, and he didn't look well at all. Gently, she rolled him onto his back, remembering things her mother taught her when it came to nursing. Checking his pulse on his neck first, she could feel a strong heartbeat. Oh, he may be hurt bad but he was definitely going to pull through with a heartbeat like that, she thought before running her hands down his chest looking for the source of all the bleeding.

He gave another groan and in the dimness of light from a nearby oil lamp she made brief eye contact with him. Ice blue eyes met her green ones and she almost forgot to breath. "J…ack." The boy managed to say before he shut his eyes, his face contorted in pain.

"Where does it hurt?" She asked softly, brushing hair from his eyes.

Groaning, he tried to push her away but he winced in pain as his arm wouldn't move. She cocked her head as she felt it and realized it was broken. "Hang in there. I'm going to get help." Naomi whispered.

"No. No help." He managed to get out as he growled one last time before slipping into unconsciousness.

Naomi glanced around, making sure no one was around to harm him before running up to get her mother. She was groggy at first, but when Naomi told her it was someone in trouble she was up and hurrying after her daughter without question.

As soon as her mother caught sight of him she was on him, deft fingers feeling his ribs, abdomen, and the broken arm. "Naomi, help me bring him up to the apartment." She ordered, "And be careful of that arm of his. It needs set."

Nodding, Naomi gently slid her hands under his arm pits and together they carried him up the two flights of stairs. They probably couldn't have done it if her mother didn't work as a nurse and often times helped lift patients, not to mention that while the boy was well defined, he wasn't exactly nourished to the full extent that he should have been.

They laid him gently on the couch as Naomi went to fetch what her mother directed her to. She grabbed a pot, filled it with water and then opened the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of liquor her mother kept in case of just such an emergency.

As her mother set about to stripping the boy, Naomi felt her gaze drawn to him twice as much as she tried to keep her eyes away. His face was pretty bad, his right eye was swollen, a deep cut over his left eyebrow and his lip was split but she could tell he was still very handsome.

A soft song sounded to her right and before she could look over Mortimer flew in through the window that was still open and perched on her shoulder to watch as her mother began to clean the blood away.

Naomi let the backs of her fingers trail lightly down his wing, "He's got a broken arm, kind of like your broken wing." She told him quietly.

He pecked her ear lightly and she took it as sign that he was trying to comfort her, "He'll pull through." Her mother told her after awhile of silently tending to him. She was just finishing bandaging his ribs; three of which were broken her mother informed her.

"I know. He has a strong heartbeat." Naomi replied, moving around the couch to brush that lock of light, brown hair from his forehead. Even so, she knew it was going to be a long night.

**A/N: *The first line is a quote from Fried Green Tomatoes, it does not belong to me but I liked it. On another note, thank yous to all who reviewed the first chapter and I hope you enjoyed this one just as much! Please keep reviewing to let me know your thoughts!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.**


	3. You're coming to

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**You're coming to but you're slow in waking"**_

Spot felt himself slowly float up from unconsciousness. He didn't immediately open his eyes because he heard the strangest thing- a girl singing to a bird's tune. Disoriented, he opened his eyes one at a time and found himself staring up at a white ceiling. He turned his head to the right and groaned at the pain that ached through ever part of his body and caused the memories from last night –was it last night?—to come crashing down on him.

Anger, bitterness, humiliation and something akin to numbness seemed to descend deep down into his soul. Lying there, he almost couldn't care less where he was. What did it seem to matter anymore? All you got from people in life was a solid knife between your shoulder blades. The five from last night could just be added to the barrel of people who'd done it before and he was tired of it. Being kind got you nowhere in life.

"You're awake." A voice said to his left and his head immediately turned to the source and then he hissed as pain shot up his neck. "Careful, there." She murmured, reaching out and laying a hand on his forehead.

He jerked his head back, causing even more pain but he just gritted his teeth and growled out, "Who are you?"

The girl cocked an elegant eyebrow at his growled question, "Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?"

Spot Conlon hid his surprise as she got sassy and he took a good look at the girl even as he realized his right eye was swollen and he could barely see out of it. From what he _could_ see she was about his age, black haired but instead of the usual brown eyes, hers were a vibrant green. Her face was heart shaped; her lips were cupid lips in that the upper lip had prominent arches below her nose which was small with the slightest upturn on the end. She would be attractive, he thought, if she kept those kissable lips shut.

Sighing, she walked around the couch he realized he was laying on and kneeled in front of him, "How are you feeling?" She asked her voice gentle as she reached out a hand to push back the blanket that covered him.

He was by no means modest but he didn't know this girl or what she wanted so he reached out and grabbed her hand before she could move the blanket, "Like Ise got run ovah by a carriage, Princess. Now, whatya think ya doin'?"

"Did you get run over by a carriage?" She inquired, tilting her head curiously to the side and completely ignoring his question. She seemed to do that a lot and Spot did not like it one bit.

So, he clamped his mouth shut as he tried to sit up; not liking lying down and being at the mercy of anyone, let alone this stranger. Except that, as soon as he tried he felt crippling pain that had him gasping and he froze, letting his body fall back against the couch.

Her brows furrowed and she shook her head, "Be careful. Did you even take into account the fact that you've been beaten almost to death?"

Narrowing his eyes at her through the pain, he snarled, "I'm use ta a lil' pain, darlin'. Foah ya infoahmation, I grew up on da streets a Brooklyn and," He felt himself pause, trying to reclaim a bit of dignity as he told her cockily, "Ya shoulda seen how bad off da othah guy was."

Pulling back her hand that he realized he still gripped she brushed aside his hand and again moved to pull back his blanket as she replied wittily, "Only thing worse than the shape you were in would be dead."

Not now they weren't, but once he was better…well, he didn't get to be the leader of Brooklyn by letting traitors live.

Reluctantly he let her pull back the blanket hoping the sight of him nearly naked would unbalance her just a little bit, but it didn't seem to even faze her. Nor did he appreciate her comment in the least probably because he knew, deep down, it was true. The five traitors had done a number on him. Spot Conlon, finally taken down…and by his own men, you could almost choke on the irony. Brooklyn was supposed to have the most loyal newsies, you didn't trust no other borough but you should be able to trust your family.

He wanted to scoff at that thought but the effort would probably cause more pain so he let his eyes wander to the nameless girl before him as she leaned over to check the bandages that were wrapped around his stomach. Her black hair fell over one shoulder like a curtain and he vaguely thought that it looked as soft as silk.

"Hmmm…" She mused, and then prodded at a rib causing him to flinch.

"Ow! Ya crazy broad." He clenched his teeth and glared as she gave a small chuckle.

"Oops." Casting him a mischievous look from the corner of her eye, she hastily pulled the blanket back up over him and stood. "You'll live. For now. I'll keep those bandages on another day. The ribs will be healed in a month or so. Your arm will take a little longer. Get comfortable, Prince, you'll be here at least five months."

Five months with this girl? Ha, he was bolting out the door the minute she wasn't hovering over him. He could take care of himself, had been doing so nearly all his life. Still, he was curious enough to ask, "If Ise gonna be here so long will ya at least tell me ya name?"

"Naomi Snow and what's your name?"

Spot almost told her his name but at the last moment he changed his mind, no use letting anyone know he was here…or injured, "Racetrack Higgins."

Quirking an eyebrow, she opened her mouth to make a smart ass comment but switched gears at the last second, "Well, I hope you're hungry. Lunch should be ready soon."

"I don't need ya food." He snapped, hating how he had become her charity case. But, his stomach gave a loud growl and her eyes danced in silent laughter.

Naomi walked towards the soup that was boiling in the pot over the flame, "Mmm, smells delicious. Are you sure you're not hungry? Chicken noodle soup…" She brought a small spoon over to the couch, cupping her hand under it so it wouldn't drip on him, "Wanna try?"

She moved it towards his mouth but his hand came up so fast she couldn't pull it back before he had knocked the spoon out of her hand. The soup splashed on his face and the spoon went skidding across the wooden floor.

Through gritted teeth, he told her, "I don't need ya damn pity, ya food and especially not ta be fed like some baby." Anger coursed through him and he squashed the guilty feeling at the shock and hurt that was plain on her face.

As quick as the feelings had come they were gone off her face and she took a step back from the couch and him, "I guess you never heard the saying, 'don't bite the hand that feeds you.'"

Chuckling, he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone as he told her, "Princess, my own mother wouldn't feed me. Ain't no hand doin' it but my own." He turned his head away from her letting the dark feelings wash over him.

Spot listened to her walk back to the kitchen without a word and silently patted himself on the back for putting the girl in her place. He didn't believe for one second that she was doing this out of the goodness of her heart because when it came to the real world everything came with a price.

He had thought he'd more than paid his dues but life had a funny way of knocking someone on their ass when they least expected it. It was time for her to learn her lesson on the ways of the cold world they lived in…and he was almost more than happy to teach her.

**A/N: This one is kind of short, but the next one will make up for it! Thanks to all who've reviewed, please keep 'em comin'! Hope you all are enjoying either way!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.**


	4. don't know where you come from

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**I see you there; don't know where you come from"**_

Naomi ignored Racetrack the rest of the afternoon, though the growls from his stomach continued to grow louder and louder as the day progressed. She refused to give in and stubbornly waited for him to surrender.

Mortimer came back around three in the afternoon. He sat on the ledge of the kitchen window and sung a song as she started preparing dinner. Softly, she began to sing a nonsensical song to follow his tune. Usually, she just sang about what she was doing but she had the sudden impulse to bother Racetrack if he was awake, "Racetrack, the ungrateful brat. Lays there hungry though there's noodle soup…yummy!"

"Terrible rhyme." He commented.

She stuck out her tongue in his direction and was then startled as Mortimer suddenly flew off the window ledge, zipped right by her and landed on the back of the couch. "Traitor!" She exclaimed after the bird as he peered down at Racetrack.

It was silent for a moment until Mortimer hopped off the back of the couch and landed on the boy, "Uh uh. Get off. Boids have diseases." She saw his hands raised to shoo Mortimer and she walked over and glared.

"Mortimer does not have diseases." Naomi told him indignantly.

Race cocked an eyebrow at her as she met his blue eyes. "Excuse me, Princess, if Ise offended ya. But ya feathered friend is trying ta make itself comfortable on my hoit ribs and I don't appreciate it."

They were such an ice blue she felt like they could freeze her all the way down to her soul. What happened to this boy to make him so cold? Where did he come from? Why was it that every time he opened his mouth she felt the need to turn around and insult him? "You don't appreciate anything." She shot back, but reached down and scooped up Mortimer, "_His_ name is Mortimer." Generally, she was sweet to people and not nearly as brusque as this. He just seemed to bring it out in her.

A knock at the door had her turning before he could reply and going to answer it. Mr. Simon stood in the door way and smiled sweetly at her, "Hello, Naomi."

Mr. Simon was a charming old gentleman that always had her smiling. He would have been tall and thin but age and time had his back arched to where he walked almost bent over which is why she didn't mind running the few errands he had every couple of days, "Good afternoon, Mr. Simon. Is there something you need?"

"I know you told me that you were nursing someone but I really wanted a paper but I don't want to walk down a block…" he trailed off and looked hopefully at her.

She smiled as his brown eyes met her green ones, "Of course. I'll run down the block. I think there's a newsie at the corner."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Racetrack trying to sit up. His teeth were gritted against the pain as he swung his legs over the side and sat up, his arm wrapping around his ribs as he breathed heavily.

Mr. Simon smiled and handed her five cents, "Thank you, Naomi, dear. Keep the change." He turned and shuffled over to his apartment to the left of theirs and she shut the door and turned to raise an eyebrow at the boy.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"Sitting up, what does it look like, Princess?" He replied, his tone still a growl.

Rolling her eyes she set Mortimer on the table and moved to the door, "I have to run across the street but I will be back in two minutes. You better not have left that spot."

His head jerked towards her at that last word and she raised an eyebrow before she opened the door and closed it behind her, heading down the stairs and outside. She glanced both ways and wasn't surprised to see newsies on either corner from her building. One was talking to another boy and the discussion looked intense so she turned to the third, the one to her left.

When she got to the newsie he smiled at her before asking "Pape, miss?" He tone was pleasant as he took off his hat respectively.

She glanced down at her nickel before replying, "Two please." Thinking perhaps a paper for Racetrack would distract him and maybe lighten his mood.

His brown eyes fell to his papers as he counted two and pulled them out. They both jumped as a voice behind her shouted, "Mush! Mush!" startling Mush and causing him to drop the papers. They both bent to pick them up as a tow-headed boy with an eye patch, the one that had been on the other corner, came sprinting down the sidewalk to stop in front of them. "Mush! Racetrack just got back from Sheepshead. He heard dat Spot Conlon lost Brooklyn! Some are sayin' he's dead."

Naomi snapped her head up the instant the name Racetrack left his mouth. She took the papers from Mush, but moved two steps away to listen.

"Who'd Race hear it from?" Mush asked, looking puzzled, "I ain't nevah thought someone could take Brooklyn from Spot."

"Some Brooklyn newsie dat was at Sheepshead. Racetrack's heading back to tell Jack. He ain't gonna be happy about dis." The boy with the eye patch replied.

Naomi had heard enough. She hurried back to her building and as she turned up the staircase she found the boy in question, who was _not_ Racetrack, clutching the banister on the stairs with his good arm. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him, "Oh no. You're turning your butt back around and going back into that apartment."

"Bite me, Princess. Dere ain't no way Ise stayin' in dis place with _you_ for five months." He glared at her, but it lost its effect as he sucked in a breath as pain flashed across his face.

"You won't make it five feet down the street in your condition." She snapped back, insulted that he was completely against the notion of spending a few months in her company.

"Dat's alright, just need ta get ta a newsie." He replied.

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, "So, my family takes you in to help you and this is how you repay us? All the hard work my mother did to wrap your ribs, the bandages she used that came out of our pockets and the wire she used to stitch up the deeper cuts. Do you realize what she did for you? She set your arm, nursed you all night, got only a few hours of sleep before she had to go to work. You lied to me, too and now you're running?" She scoffed and moved to go around him as she added, "Fine. Be a coward."

His back stiffened at her accusation, "Spot Conlon don't run from anything, sweetheart. And I ain't a coward." And then he realized his mistake.

She smirked smugly at him, "I already knew. I heard some newsboys talking outside and they mentioned a newsie whose name was Racetrack and it clearly wasn't you. So you're the king of Brooklyn that has fallen, hmm?" Naomi taunted. Of course she had heard of Spot Conlon's name whispered among the newsies when she stopped by Tibby's on rare occasions to get a little food during her errands but never had she thought that this boy would be him.

Glaring, Spot shut his mouth and slowly turned away from her. He began to make his way slowly up the stairs and she realized he was going back to the apartment. Surprised, she followed up behind him. Though he took it slow, she didn't move to help. Naomi could see his damaged pride and decided to let him keep what little must have been left. When he reached the door to the apartment, she moved around him and went to Mr. Simon's to drop off his paper before heading back. Though she hadn't been gone long, he was already to the couch, his breathing heavy as he slowly lowered himself down onto it.

"I didn't do this 'cause of ya little speech." He told her from his spot on the couch as she shut the door.

"Why'd you change your mind?" She asked, walking over and laying a gentle hand on his forehead. He was burning up.

Spot didn't even move to knock her hand away and she hid a small smile at her victory as he replied, "News of my failure will be all around da city. No body will be found, so they'll know Ise survived. Dey will search da lodging houses and at da moment…" He paused as if he couldn't bare to say it aloud, "I'm in no condition ta defend myself. Dis is da safest place."

She moved to the kitchen and dipped a rag in some cold water before ringing it out and bringing it back to lay it across his forehead. His eyes were closed and it looked as if he were sleeping but as she pulled the blanket over him to keep him warm he muttered, "Keep da damn boid away from me."

Smothering a laugh, she headed back into the kitchen. Glancing outside, she realized it was almost time for her mother and Bea to get back so she hurriedly finished cutting up the potatoes and adding them to the pot. She busied herself around the kitchen doing small, menial tasks while humming to herself quietly. When she could hear her mother and sister's steps on the stairs, she turned to the sitting room and saw Mortimer perched on the back of the couch, wings tucked in as he slept above the boy.

Smiling, she went around the couch and took the wet rag off of his brow and laid the back of her hand once again against his wet forehead. His temperature hadn't gone down and the fever was beginning to worry her. Could the exertion from earlier have brought this on? Or was something infected?

As her mother came in she felt a wave of relief until she caught the tired look on her mother's face. Placing the rag back on Spot's brow, she moved to the kitchen as Bea came flying in. "Naomi! How was your day?" She asked before Naomi could even open her mouth. Glancing over to the sitting room, Bea interrupted Naomi before she could answer the girl's first question, "How is he? Has he awakened? What's his name? What happened to him? Did you find out where he's from?"

"Bea, give her a chance to answer one question before you ask another, hmm?" Their mother spoke wearily as she gave Naomi a hug in greeting, "How's he doing, love?"

Naomi smiled at her mother, she had grown a few inches taller than her petite mother a year or so ago, and replied, "He was awake earlier and is quite the stubborn boy. His name is Spot, I take it he's a newsie. He hasn't told me what happened." That last part wasn't a lie, not really considering he hadn't; she had heard of it from the boy with the eye patch. Plus, her mother and sister didn't need to know all the gory details. She moved back towards him as he slept and once again brushed that obnoxious strand of hair off his brow, "But, I'm afraid he's got a fever…"

Lily hurried around the couch and felt his head, "Hmm…" She pulled back the blanket to feel his ribs as he shifted uncomfortable in sleep. Naomi watched, mesmerized, as her mother's skillful fingers traced over him looking for any wound that was left unattended that could have become infected. An ache started in her chest as she realized that she'd never get to be a nurse like her mother. She'd never had any formal education, a fact she knew bothered her mother. Her father and mother had always taught her everything and her mother had stayed home to raise them until the sudden death of her father had forced her mother to look for a job.

Hurrying away from the scene, Naomi went to check on dinner. She listened intently, though, as her mother looked him over and Bea asked curious questions. Finally, her mother came out and dipped her hands into the warm, soapy water and dried them on a hand towel, "Well, there's no infection I can see. We just have to wait it out, I'm afraid. He may be unconscious for a couple days, it's hard to say. Try and get some water and maybe some soup in him tomorrow." She paused and met Naomi's matching green eyes, "Are you going to be able to handle him?"

Rolling her eyes, Naomi took the bowls down from the cupboard and sat them on the table like any other night. "Yes. I did fine with him today, didn't I?"

"You'll have to change the bandages tomorrow. Do you remember everything I taught you?"

"Of course." Naomi replied, "Bea!"

Bea glanced up from her seat next to the sofa, "He's mumbling. Something about a ruckus and a guy named Jack." Her sister said as she came over for her food.

Naomi bit her lip, remembering him saying something about a Jack when she had found him but decided to keep the information to herself. Maybe tomorrow, if it looked like he'd be asleep for awhile, she'd seek out this Jack. The dark-haired girl distinctly recalled the boy with the eye patch saying something about Racetrack telling Jack. Was this Jack he talked about a fellow newsie?

Although, he had mentioned here was the safest place for him. She silently debated, wondering if she could get the knowledge she wanted without cluing the boy in. It would be an interesting adventure.

Her thoughts took off and she could picture herself being a spy, coyly charming the boy into telling her all the questions she had about Spot Conlon…except while she could imagine the scenario, she knew deep down that she was a terrible actress. Lying had never been easy for her, she prided herself on how blunt she could actually be. There was no way she could pull a fast one on this Jack, especially if he was a newsie –boys who were notorious liars. He'd smell it like a shark smelling blood.

Before she knew it, her mother and sister were heading to bed and she was laying out the blanket and pillow on the floor near the window. She could see his face in the light of the small oil lamp she had going and she couldn't seem to pull her eyes off of him. His nose was slightly upturned, his brows furrowed in a perpetual scowl it seemed and his lips had been in a straight line the entire time he'd been awake –unless he was smirking. This Spot Conlon didn't seem to ever truly smile and realizing that made her a little sad.

The greatest and perhaps the worst thing about him were those blue eyes. They were beautiful, but cold and almost…unforgiving. As if he'd had enough of the world and was tired of everything he'd seen. The permanent hardness that was in every line and contour of his face had her brushing her fingers across his cheek, along his brows trying to smooth it out. It seemed not even in sleep he was happy.

Before she could stop herself, she whispered, "What has happened to you?"

Of course, she didn't expect an answer but she still felt disappointed when the silence stretched out between them. Sighing, she dropped her hand to her side and slowly walked to her made up bed. It wasn't the most comfortable but she wasn't about to toss the boy on the floor as beat up as he was or as frustrating as he'd turned out to be.

He just needed a lesson in the good things in the world and she was more than happy to teach him.

**A/N: A Special thank you to my wonderful Beta reader, xxWicked Wench! Kudos and hearts because she's amazing. If you haven't read her stuff, I highly recommend you do! Thanks to all who have been reading and especially those who are reviewing! You guys rock! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, lemme know your thoughts in a review!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.**


	5. some of us never get it so good

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**Never understood why some of us never get it so good"**_

He didn't awake slowly, like last time. Right before he did, though, he distinctly remembered the faces in the dark, circling around him and causing him pain in a way that could only ever echo in a nightmare. A few of the faces stood out, the white-blonde hair of his mother so angelic-looking but with the personality of a snake, the sneering face of Lighter, and the identical blue eyes of his older brother were among the betrayers that were kicking and beating him in this endless darkness. Hatred for every one of them burned through his entire being, but he could not move. Could do nothing but lay there at their mercy, a trait he knew none of them carried.

As the pain in the nightmare became too much, he began to slip away from them into a darkness that was the same as before, but somehow softer. Maybe it was because a voice whispered along it, shushing him and speaking sweetly about helping him. For a moment, he yearned to touch the face of the person who spoke to him like he was a human being.

The dream shattered and he came to, bolting upright as his hand reached out in front of him, still unconsciously searching for that voice, that person who could speak to him in a way that he'd never heard. It called out to the deepest reaches of his soul.

His arm continued to stretch out in front of him as his surroundings came back to him along with the pain in his ribs; except not even the pain could send him back when he wanted so desperately to find her, that bodiless voice of hope.

Memories of his first day waking in this apartment came crashing down on him and he dropped his arm and looked to his left so he could see into the kitchen. He almost relaxed when he saw her back to him, humming lightly as she read a paper at the counter and added something to a bowl. She looked so caught up in what she was making; she hadn't realized he'd awaken.

For a moment, he was mesmerized by her. Unlike the upper class girls he saw on a daily basis, she didn't have her hair pulled up but rather it fell down her back in slight waves. She wore a simple, pale yellow dress that hugged her hips and then flared out. It was the appropriate length for a young woman her age and it showed her figure to perfection. Stunned, he sat there and watched her as she moved away from her bowl and opened a cupboard and reached up to pull out a canister. Suddenly, just as she was bringing the canister down, it seemed she felt his gaze on her and she turned her head to the right so that his blue eyes met her green ones.

"Oh, you're awake!"

The moment her mouth opened the spell was broken, "Thank ya, miss obvious." He couldn't help replying. What was it about her that could irritate him? He was normally so much more charming when it came to ladies, especially the pretty ones.

She scowled at him, the space between her eyebrows puckering as she narrowed her eyes at him, "And still frustrating, I see." She muttered, setting the canister down and heading over towards him. He raised an eyebrow as she laid her hand on his forehead once more and then stepped back with a smile, "Fever's all gone. I think the worst of it is over. It broke sometime in the night but I wasn't sure how much longer you'd be asleep."

"How long was I asleep foah?" He asked, moving back on the couch so he could sit up. He was tired of lying down and was willing to ignore the ache in his ribs to do it.

She folded her arms across her chest, "Three days. You mumbled a lot and were half delirious but you don't have an infection. You should be fine now. Are you hungry?" She moved around the couch, not meeting his eyes as she went back to the kitchen.

He was hungry, but not as hungry as he'd thought he'd be after not eating…at least three days. Plus, the day he was awake, "How long have I been here?" He asked, looking over at her.

"This is the sixth day." Was the mumbled reply as she stuck her head in one of the bottom cupboards, looking for something. "Aha!" She pulled out another canister, almost identical to the first, and set it next to her bowl that she had been putting ingredients in.

His eyes narrowed, "I'd be a hungrier than dis if Ise hadn't eaten in six days." He commented.

Busying herself with what she was mixing, she ignored him.

"Ise wondah why dat is…" He added, and then decided to be blunt because she didn't seem to get the hint, "Why am Ise not stahvin'?

Stirring the ingredients, the bowl tucked in her arms she turned to face him and shrugged, "I might have fed you when you were unconscious from the fever…" She kept her face smooth but he detected the smallest bit of smugness.

"Ya…fed me." He kept his own face smooth, not letting her see the anger that began to once again pulse through his veins. It wasn't even just anger; it was more of that humiliation that he'd felt after being beaten by five of his boys. Shame, hurt pride, and embarrassment swept through him at the image of her spoon feeding him as he slept.

She didn't reply, only continued stirring whatever was in the bowl, and her head slowly cocked to the side as she studied him. Uncomfortable, he glared, "What'd Ise tell ya about dat? Ise don't want ya pity…or ya food."

"So…you planned to stay here for five months without eating?" Naomi asked, "I wasn't aware you were immortal."

"And I wasn't aware ya'd be so annoying." He countered, though even he heard how lame that sounded. So caught up in his misery, he missed the hurt look that flashed across her face before she turned her back to continue stirring. He was just irritated that he'd gone from being the King of Brooklyn to…to some pitiful creature that lay on a strangers couch and ate their food.

A small voice in the back of his mind tried to reason with him. Yes, he was angry at the fact that he was beaten but he didn't need to take it out on her. She was only trying to keep him alive. Except he almost wished she hadn't of bothered…

But thoughts like that were as uncommon in his head as snow in August. He _was_ Spot Conlon and her saving him could prove to be the greatest gift. He could go back to Brooklyn after this, get his revenge and take back his rightful place as their Leader. Never again would they question his authority. He'd be seen as unstoppable, the newsie who, no matter how many times you kicked him when he was down, he could get back up and claim what was rightfully his.

He just had to play nice with this girl and her family for a few months. That realization had him wincing internally.

Slowly, he forced himself to get up from the couch, despite the fact that every nerve in his body was pulsing with pain. Luckily, he could see the bruises on his arms were a yellow that showed they were healing which meant the ones he was sure that littered his face and the rest of his body looked about the same. His legs felt like jelly after not being used much the last six days, but he managed to stretch them out a bit and made his way over to Naomi at a decent pace.

She jumped a bit as he tapped on her shoulder and turned to meet his gaze, "What are you doing? You should be lying down, healing." She told him, putting her hand on his arm and trying to push him back towards the couch.

"Nah, Princess. Funny t'ing is Ise can heal and stand up at da same time." He replied, holding his ground. She was only an inch or so shorter than him but she looked barely ninety pounds soaking wet and was definitely no match for him.

She scowled up at him, "Then what do you want?"

Spot clenched his teeth, trying to keep his anger and irritation down but it was hard. "If Ise gonna be stuck on ya couch Ise gonna at least help. I don't take charity from no one." If his arm wasn't in a sling, he'd have loved to cross them to prove his point that he wasn't backing down.

One of her dark eyebrows raised and she blew out a breath, "Fine. You can help me bake this cake."

"Ya bakin' a cake?" He asked, surprised in spite of himself

"Yes. Tomorrow is Bea's birthday." She paused to clarify, "Bea's my little sister, and you'll meet her tonight."

Curious, he took the container of flour from her and placed it in the cupboard she pointed in, "Ya got any othah siblings?"

Naomi then handed him the canister of sugar that he placed in the bottom cupboard before replying, "No. It's just Bea, my mother and I."

He hid his surprise, "No father?"

It was silent for a moment and he glanced over to read her face. It was perfectly blank and only her eyes gave away the pain she felt at the mention of him, "No. No, father." She finally said, before swallowing and pulling out a small cake pan.

He debated pushing the subject, but finally decided to drop it, "So, ya stay home all day?"

"I run errands, buy the groceries we need because mother works all day. I do laundry and occasionally help out my neighbor. He's an older gentleman that has a hard time getting around." She answered without taking offense as she scraped the batter into the cake pan.

"How old ya sistah turnin'?"

When she'd gotten the last of the batter out, she put the bowl in the sink and met his eyes, "If you're going to ask questions then I get to ask questions, too."

He narrowed his eyes, silently debating on if he felt like answering questions. It didn't sound the least bit appealing. He wasn't the least bit interested in the third degree not to mention he wasn't use to answering to anybody and the thought of being interrogated by this girl was unsettling. So, he answered, "Nevahmind, Princess. I'll keep my questions."

Hiding his smirk at the disappointed look, he watched as she turned away to place the cake pan in the wood burning stove. Just as she straightened up there was a noise from the kitchen window. They both looked up to see Mortimer peering in through the window, looking miserable as April showers pattered lightly on his head. As Naomi slipped by him to let the bird in, he caught the faintest whiff of her and was surprised that it was familiar to him. Vanilla and cinnamon with the undertone of a scent that was uniquely hers had him wondering how that could possibly be familiar to him.

Shaking his head, he walked over to the small table and sat down at one of the four chairs. He'd barely been standing fifteen minutes but already he felt exhausted not to mention he could feel the beginnings of a pounding headache. Wearily, he looked over to watch as Naomi set the bird on the counter, the same counter she'd just made the batter for the cake, and shut the window to keep the rain from coming in.

Raising an eyebrow, he couldn't keep stop the comment, "Ya set da boid down on da countah."

"So?" Naomi replied sharply, turning to wash her hands.

Before he could reply, the starling flew off the counter and around the room until it landed on his shoulder. Scowling, he moved to shoo it away just as the door opened up and a two blondes came in. Naomi moved to stand next to him as the two closed the door behind them and turned green eyes on him. It was unsettling to see the same green eyes that Naomi turned on him in both the faces of the woman and girl in front of him.

Standing up, he glanced over to Naomi as she introduced him, "Mother, this is Spot. Spot, this is my mother and my sister Beatrice."

"Call me Lily." The older of the two stepped forward, though she was by no means old. Spot shook her hands, taking in the similarities of the three. Naomi was the most out of place, especially with her dark hair. But, the matching green eyes and a few smaller features, such as the lips that Naomi shared with her mother left little doubt that they were related.

Beatrice stepped forward eagerly, "And call me Bea. Everyone does. So, why do they call you Spot?" She tilted her head inquisitively.

Lily shooed her younger daughter away from him and smiled sweetly, the area around her eyes crinkling in an attractive way, "Bea, he's just met you and you're already bombarding him with questions. Let him settle in."

Spot was surprised by the lack of an accent most poor to middle class had. Her voice had the lilting quality he'd heard often from the educated, upper class gals that frequently bought papes from him, "Thank ya, Mrs. Snow, foah takin' me in." He said, trying to be on his best behavior because while Naomi could grate on his nerves, something about her mother made him feel at home.

"Lily." She pressed, but continued to smile, "It's not a problem. I see Naomi's already introduced you to Morty. My daughter has a weakness for taking in the injured." She winked at her daughter, "Her father use to blame me, but I told him it's a family curse."

"Too kind for our own good." Naomi intoned as if it was something she had lived by her entire life and from the sound of it she had.

Spot couldn't stop the chuckle as he sat back down and passed a look to the dark-haired girl beside him. She narrowed her eyes and moved around him to check on the cake that was still baking. Bea came out of the one and only bedroom and sat at the table across from Spot. Spot raised an eyebrow at her and she tried, and failed, to mimic the motion. Sighing, she told him, "Naomi does that to me, but refuses to teach me."

"Teach you what?" Naomi asked, moving to the ice box to pull out a glass container. She then bent over to the bottom cupboard and pulled out a pot and put the contents from the container into the pot before adding a little bit of water and putting it on the top of the range.

"Raise one eyebrow." Bea told her sister before turning back to him, "So, why do they call you Spot?"

"Ya sistah says ya birthdays' tamarrah. How old ya turnin'?" He asked, smirking as Naomi bristled from where she stirred the pot. He could get his answers another way, _without_ answering hers.

"Thirteen! I'm one year closer to being a grown lady." She told him, her green eyes sparkling.

A sigh from behind him had him glancing back to see Mrs. Snow as she, too, came out of the bedroom now dressed in a plain blue dress, "Why can't you just enjoy being young, Bea?" She asked, walking around the table to stand beside her oldest daughter. "I'll cut the loaf of bread, love."

The homey, domesticity of this scene brought on a curious ache in his chest. He'd never actually had a home, besides the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House, and he had never had upfront experience with the way a mother _should_ treat her children. Spot had observed it from afar when he sold papers but never had he been as close to the mother-child bond as he was now. It made him angry and bitter at the thought that had his mother been Lily Snow, or at least like Mrs. Snow, he'd have had a happy childhood instead of one full of nights going to bed hungry, cold and lonely. The unfairness of the world struck him like a knife.

He'd never understand why some never got it as good as this.

**A/N: Thanks for those who reviewed! Hope you enjoyed this and I'm going to shamelessly beg for reviews! Review? Pretty Please?**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.**


	6. You still haven't spoken, what happened?

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**You still haven't spoken, what happened?"**_

Naomi was surprised how the next few weeks seemed to fly by as Spot and her fell into an _almost_ companionable routine. The first week and a half after he awoke from his fever he was standoffish with Bea and continually aggravating during the day with her, but it seemed he was beginning to warm up. At least to her mother and sister, she thought, watching the three as they played a game of cards at the kitchen table one night after dinner.

He was teaching them poker, something her mother admitted having always wanted to learn. Naomi had declined because she had actually learned how to play it a few years back by Mr. Simon and his grandson, Shane, and decided to make her way up onto the roof to get some fresh air. April had been rainy, but it was now fading into May and the smell of spring and the coming summer was everywhere.

She sat down at her usual spot on the roof and looked out towards the Brooklyn Bridge, thinking about her house guest that she had spent many days with. True, he was still coarse and cold at times but his problem with eating their food was gone now. Like he had told her, he liked to earn what he ate and refused to eat if he didn't. So, she'd been teaching him to cook these last few weeks and he'd really gotten the hang of it. Besides the few things he couldn't do with a broken arm he was pretty good at it and she was impressed in spite of herself sometimes.

Naomi would also have to admit to herself that she was beginning to like him. True, they fought constantly and at the beginning it was in frustration but recently it had become more teasing than actual arguing. Just yesterday he was poking at the fact that she hummed constantly while cooking or doing chores, even when Mortimer wasn't around to tweet at them.

Mortimer was another example of Spot's warming up. Today was the first day that he made no comment when the bird settled himself on his shoulder. She'd even caught him feeding small pieces of bread to the starling. Her heart had warmed at the sight, but she'd looked away when he glanced up so he wouldn't know she'd seen a softer side of him.

"Naomi?" Her mother called up, and she had a flashback of the night she'd found Spot, how this was almost like that very night, minus Mortimer who was inside and still on Spot's shoulder.

"Coming." She called down; taking one last glance towards Brooklyn, remembering that was where Spot had come from. She wondered what had happened, he still hadn't spoken of it and she was insanely curious to know.

As she headed down, she remembered him and the newsies talking of the Jack person. She hadn't thought of finding him anymore after Spot had gotten his fever because she'd been worried about leaving him. Though she'd left him at various times to run to the market, never had it been for a long period of time. She did have an idea where to find this Jack and it would take most of the day so she decided that tomorrow she'd go looking for him and before she left, she'd ask Mr. Simon if his grandson would like to stop by and check in on Spot while she was gone.

She smiled as she climbed through the window, already knowing exactly Spot's reaction to that would be. Already, she could hear his angry, "Ise don't need a baby sittah." He didn't, she knew. His ribs were close to healing but he still had awhile for that arm of his to heal. She just didn't want him to be alone the entire day, not to mention she was scared, deep down, that she'd come back and he'd be gone. This was because she was aware he was tired of being cooped up, although at the same time she knew he didn't want to risk being seen because word could get back to Brooklyn and something about Brooklyn knowing about him surviving before he could defend himself had him scared; though she doubted he'd ever admit to that.

"Whatya smiling about?" He asked sitting on the couch, Mortimer still perched on his shoulder as he gave her a wary look.

She huffed, "I'm not allowed to smile? Do I need your permission, oh mighty one?"

The smallest smirk lifted the right side of his mouth and she was struck by his handsomeness as he replied, "Shoah ya do, Princess."

Moving into the kitchen, she went to the sink to wash the dishes only to find them done, "Did mother do the dishes?" She asked, turning to see the back of Spot's head.

"Nah, Ise did." He didn't look at her.

Usually she did the dishes after showing him what to cook, so this surprised her. "Thank you." She said, cocking her head curiously at the back of his head.

"Ya welcome." Was his only reply.

With nothing left to do, she let out a yawn and moved to grab her blanket and pillow from the closet. As she laid them out on the floor, she had the feeling of being watched. She turned towards Spot and raised an eyebrow, "Can I help you?"

His brows were furrowed as he stared at her, "Whatya doin'?"

"Making my bed…" She kept her eyebrow raised and looked at him like he was insane, and then realized that since he'd been here he hadn't seen her do this. She generally stayed up later than him and got up earlier.

His eyes narrowed, "Ise thought ya always slept with ya sistah and mothah."

She couldn't prevent the rueful smile, "No. There's barely enough room on that bed for them two let alone a third person. I use to sleep on the couch until we found you."

Spot's face was strangely blank as he asked, "Ya been sleepin' dere all dis time?"

She shrugged, "I'm use to it, Bea use to have the couch before my father died. Besides, I'm not gonna kick an injured person off the couch."

As she lay down, she glanced over to see him studying her intently. Rolling onto her side she stared back before speaking, "I have to run some errands tomorrow. It's going to take longer than usual, but I don't want you to be alone too long so I'm going to ask Mr. Simon if he can send his grandson over for a bit."

He scowled, "Ise don't need a baby sittah."

She chuckled as she predicted that comment perfectly, "He's our age, so don't think of it as a baby sitter, think of it as a friend visiting."

Rolling his eyes, he took Mortimer off his shoulder, set him on the back of the couch and lay down on his right side so he could keep her in view. He didn't comment on what she said, but rather changed the subject, "What errands do ya gotta do?"

Realizing she was a terrible liar, she shrugged, "The usual." She heard the crack in her voice and when he raised one eyebrow she knew he had, too. "I'm visiting a friend, if you must know."Alright, that sounded better to her ears, her defensiveness hiding the blatant lie.

"Oh, yeah?" He asked.

Narrowing her eyes she replied, "Yes." Then, added, "Good night, Spot." She rolled over so her back was to him but she could hear his chuckle as she reached over and turned the oil lamp down so that the flame would go out and they were doused in darkness.

"Good night, Naomi."

A small shiver ran up her spine as he said her name in almost a whisper. She pushed the feeling away, but when she closed her eyes his blue eyes were there in her mind. As much as she tried, she couldn't think of anything else and they followed her into her dreams when she finally fell asleep.

She awoke early as she always did. From the bedroom she could hear her mother murmuring softly to wake Bea up. Naomi and her mother were always up early and Bea, like her father, had always been hard to wake up. Smiling at the bittersweet memories, she folded up her blanket and put it and her pillow in the closet before going to cook up some eggs for breakfast.

They ate quietly like they had grown accustomed to ever since Spot had joined them, trying not to wake him. Bea quietly told Naomi about the newsboy she'd bought a paper from every morning the last week on their way to Mrs. Levy's. Before they left her mother gave her a kiss on the forehead and her sister gave her one on the cheek.

Once they were gone, Naomi went in and made the bed and picked up the laundry to do the following day before she went next door to Mr. Simon's.

"Good mornin', Naomi!" He greeted her when he opened the door.

She smiled brilliantly, "Good morning, Mr. Simon. I just came over to ask a small favor of you today."

"What can I do for ya?" He asked, peering at her as his big, bushy grey eyebrows rose.

Hesitating for just a moment, she finally said, "I have errands to run today, is Shane stopping by? I would appreciate it if he could check in on my patient for an hour or so. I can pick anything up you might need while I'm out."

He smiled, "Shane will be over around noon. I'll have him stop by. Can I give you a small list?" The old man shuffled back into the apartment and wrote a few things down on a small tablet before ripping it off and handing it to her along with a few coins. "I appreciate it, Naomi. You're parents raised ya right." He told her, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

"Thank you and give Shane my thanks for checking in on my guest. It gives me peace of mind to know he won't be alone all day." She gave him a quick smile before she went back to the apartment, not giving him a chance to comment on the fact that her guest was a male.

Hurrying past the couch, she went into her mother's room to check her reflection in the looking glass to make sure she looked presentable, though why she felt the need to look nice to talk to a newsie she wasn't sure. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she brushed her fingers against the skirt of her lavender dress. While it was a pretty dress, it was old and worn from use. Sighing, she came back out of the room and nearly collided with Spot, "Good morning!" She chirped, pulling up short.

He cocked an eyebrow, "Ya chippah dis moinin'." Was all he said as he continued to the kitchen.

"I made eggs for breakfast, there's milk in the ice box and the breads there. I can also toast you a few pieces if you'd like." She looked at him expectantly for an answer.

Grunting, he took a seat at the kitchen table and glanced over at her. Noticing her expectant look he thought a moment and then sighed, "I'm good. I'll just eat the eggs."

She knew he went through moments like this. He'd get quiet and this thoughtful look would pull across his mask while he ignored everything going on around him; almost as if he were calculating things in his head.

Cooking up a few more eggs for him, she set the plate down in front of him and sat across from him, watching as he ate his food. He was looking healthier; although she still had to change the bandages on his ribs every few days at least they were healing. His arm had a few more months, but her mother had told him he'd have full use of it as long as he let her help him exercise it when it did finish healing. Spot had looked relieved, to say the least.

"Whatya starin' at?" He asked, surly.

Hiding a smile that she knew would only irritate him further; she stood and went about cleaning up the kitchen. "Will you tell me what happened, Spot?" She asked, ignoring his question because she was going out to find this Jack and she might as well try to get some information out of her guest before she tried a complete stranger.

It was quiet for such a long moment that she couldn't stop herself from turning around to look at him. He wasn't looking at her just gazing out of the kitchen window while slowly eating his eggs, his light, brown hair mussed from sleep and the bruises that had been on his face were all but gone, the only signs of a fight was the red, healing line over his left eyebrow from the deep cut that would without a doubt leave a silvery scar in its place. She watched as his right hand fell down to his hip, as if he was use to fingering something that was usually there but was now gone. For a brief moment, pain flashed across his blue eyes so deep she was almost sure she'd imagined it when it was gone.

"Ya know dat I was da leadah of da Brooklyn Newsies." He stated his voice deeper than usual.

The King, she thought, remembering how she'd called him a prince to mock his own term for her of princess. "Yes."

His eyes flickered to hers, "Well, sometimes othahs wanna take charge, Princess, and sometimes they don't fight fair." The tone in his voice was gruff, but she heard it soften just a bit as he called her Princess.

Realizing he didn't want to talk about it anymore, she nodded without commenting and continued to clean up. For awhile it was quiet as they were left to their thoughts and she was so deep in her own that she nearly jumped out of her skin when he appeared next to her, his plate in hand, "I'll finish up." He murmured, "Don't you have a friend to visit?"

Glancing up at the small wall clock, she realized it was later than she would have liked it to be, "You're right! Thank you." She tossed him a genuine smile and went over to wash her hands, "Alright, if Mortimer comes to the window let him in and give him some bird seed. He'll be hungry. Oh, and around noon Mr. Simon's grandson's coming over. His name is Shane." Stopping in front of where he stood in front of the counter, she met his blue eyes, "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

Spot raised an eyebrow at her, "Yeah, Ise have lived on my own befoah." He was teasing but at the same time he spoke it gently.

Drawing in a breath, she slowly let it out, "Of course. I'm sorry. I'm being ridiculous."

"Oh, good. I'm glad Ise didn't haveta be da one ta point it out." He chuckled to show he was kidding and she stuck her tongue out at him as she headed to the door.

She gave one last wave before heading down the stairs and out the front door into the spring air. Inhaling deeply, she couldn't believe she was actually going to search for this stranger. What was she going to say? She wondered, briefly panicking. Of course, if Spot trusted him enough to head into Manhattan to seek shelter she was sure she could trust him, too. Except after what Spot had said this morning, she didn't know if she wanted to trust any other newsies. Perhaps Jack had been involved and Spot didn't know? What if she was about to let the person who wanted Spot know he was with her, hurt and defenseless?

Pushing the doubts away, she straightened up and continued into the heart of Manhattan. Spot trusted him, so she could, too and if he proved to have any involvement with whatever happened to Spot, well he didn't know where she lived and she was sure there was _something_ she could do to keep him safe. Naomi silently vowed to do anything if things came to that; she didn't save him only to lead his enemies back to him.

Stopping at a few vender stands, she bought the groceries on Mr. Simon's list and some on her own. She spent time dallying around until noon when she began to make her way to the Tibby's restaurant that she knew the newsies frequented, hoping that today Jack would be there. Stepping through the door, she took a quick scan around the room before making her way to a small table in the corner. Once settled, she ordered a coffee from the waiter and looked around with interest at the various customers.

Within minutes, boys began to enter causing the older customers to beat it out of there. She recognized the boys as newsies, their clothes worn and ill-fitting, many wearing cabby hats and their manners unpolished as they pulled tables together, sat backwards and caused enough mischief. Vaguely wondering why the owner put up with them, she glanced to the right only to turn back and notice a newsie coming towards her, "Mind if I join ya?" He asked, giving her a rakish smile.

Another boy, one she recognized from the day she had found out Spot's real name, came over and pushed the others hat low, "Swifty, da lady don't want ya company. It's obvious she's da type a girl who digs blondes." He gave her his own charming smile, his one blue eye twinkling down at her.

Raising an eyebrow, she couldn't help but tell them, "Actually, I prefer guys with brown hair."

"In dat case…How ya doin', dollface?" An eavesdropping newsie said, another one that she recognized, but this time she knew him as the one who sold her the paper. Had his name been Mash? Mush?

"Well, you boys sure are charming." She told them, unable to hide her smile. She could almost understand her sister's constant fawning of these ragged, yet charismatic boys. "I wonder, though, if you could help me out."

Mush smiled sweetly, "Anything foah da lady."

Glancing around, she finally turned back to the boys' chocolate, brown eyes and asked, "Could you tell me which one of these boys is Jack?"

They all groaned, "Jack!" They called in unison and the one called Swifty moved away, murmuring irritably about how Jack hadn't been the only newsie in the strike. Mush and the one with the eye patch stood around as another guy made his way over.

"Whats da mattah?" He asked the two, rolling his eyes as they each gave him a small shove.

"Anuddah dame lookin' foah da _famous_ Jack Kelly." The blonde told him as he followed Mush away.

Raising an eyebrow, he watched them leave before turning back to her with a quizzical look, "Can I help ya miss?" He asked politely.

Naomi took a moment to look at the boy before her. He was tall, much taller than Spot with a red bandanna tied around his neck, a cowboy hat hanging on his back and dark, brown hair that seemed to fall in his eyes of the same dark brown. Before she could stop herself, she asked him, "Can I trust you, Jack?"

**A/N: Mwahaha, hope you all enjoyed that! Few familiar faces, hmm? And what WILL occur between Naomi and Jack? You all should review and let me know what you think!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.**


	7. We're separate Two ghosts in one mirror

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**We're separate. Two ghosts in one mirror, no nearer."**_

Spot waited a moment for the echoes of Naomi's steps down the stairs to fade away before he let his thoughts wander to last night's conversation with her mother and sister. After she'd went up the fire escape, he'd seen her mother pass a worried glance over before he finally asked the question he'd been pondering for some time, "What happened ta ya husband, if ya don't mind my askin'."

Lily Snow's green eyes met his, a strange grief he'd never seen in them but she answered him honestly, "He died two years ago of pneumonia." She paused to glance down at her cards before she let out a long sigh, "I worry about her. She was always close with her father; a daddy's girl even at fifteen. His sickness came suddenly and took him just as fast." Her eyes flickered to the window Naomi had gone out of before she met his eyes once more, "She's so closed off anymore. Naomi can be sweet and kind. She comes off as open, but she keeps so much of her thoughts and feelings to herself."

Bea, who had been strangely quiet till then had murmured, "Her light's gone dim."

Spot had looked at the young girl, "Whatya mean?"

Those green eyes they shared between them had turned on him, wide and somber as she told him, "Naomi use to be bright, but since daddy died…it's nearly gone out."

Pulling himself from the memories, his thoughts turned to the truth of what her mother said. Naomi did have a way of saying things to people without letting them know her thoughts on the matter. For example, the fact that she had been sleeping on the floor this last month; of course, she hadn't complained, but he'd seen the way she'd rub her shoulders during the day, not realizing he could see the stiffness in her from being on the floor. He hadn't known till last night, so he perhaps his guilt was unwarranted but that didn't stop him for staying up for much of the night in thought. He'd even contemplated moving her onto the couch, something he couldn't hope to do with one broken arm without waking her.

Suddenly, he realized that being here, with these girls, was making him soft. He was actually worried about their individual feelings. He shouldn't feel guilty; he rarely felt guilt and just because they'd been nice to him didn't mean he had to be nice back. No matter what they had done for him, it didn't change the fact that as soon as he was healed he was gone.

Although he was well aware that he had been nice. It was hard to be tough and cold when they treated him so sweetly. Just the other day, Bea had made him a picture in watercolors, something that had gave him a strange, warm feeling in his chest. Moreover, Mrs. Snow was constantly checking on him, making sure he was healing properly. He understood she was a nurse and it was her job, but she also asked him how his day went when she got home, almost like a mother would.

He shook his head angrily, refusing to even think about all they had done for him while asking for little in return. Turning toward the couch, he fell down on it and pressed his nose into it, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon wrapped around him and he remembered baking Bea's birthday cake and being close enough to Naomi to smell this scent on her. Naturally, it would be the scent on the couch, her bed before he came here. For some reason, the smell comforted him and he began to doze off.

An annoying _tap, tap, tap_ brought him from another one of those dark dreams where all he could see was people from his past floating around him. Running his hand through his hair, he got to his feet and stumbled towards the door. He opened it and stared at the empty hallway before looking to his left to see Mortimer sitting at the kitchen window, tapping on the glass. Glaring, he shut the door and moved to the window to let the starling in. "Ya lucky I was havin' a bad dream." He told Mortimer as he moved to the bucket that held the bird seed.

Scooping a handful, he held his hand out to it and watched as it jumped on his arm and began to eat while twittering at him, its head quirking up at him inquiring at times as if it were actually holding a conversation with him. Scowling, Spot asked the bird, "What'd dey do ta ya? Coulda been a free bird but now ya their pet."

Mortimer stopped tweeting to listen to him before continuing his song. He paused again as if waiting for Spot to say something so the Brooklyn leader leaned against the counter and looked at him, "Why do ya stay? Its da free food, ainit?" An empty silence stretched between them, as if no sound from Mortimer was his disagreement. So, Spot found himself continuing the conversation, "Naomi told me ya broke ya wing and dat some boys were pickin' on ya. Didn't ya evah go and get ya revenge? Shit on their heads or somethin'?"

_Oh, man, _he thought, he was going crazy if he was talking to this bird. At least he wasn't expecting a reply…yet. Who knew the amount of sanity he'd lose here. Setting the bird down on the counter, he turned to look for a snack for himself to stave off a little of the hunger he was beginning to feel. He'd admit it was nice to have at least one meal a day, let alone three consistent meals. Naomi and her family weren't rich, but they sure knew how to stretch out the meals so there was always something to eat.

He'd just taken the first bite of his sandwich when a knock on the door startled him. Setting it down on the plate, he went over to the door and slowly pulled it open.

Spot Conlon was met with a human blockade. The guy was at least six foot three with broad shoulders and a massive chest, though not an ounce of it looked like fat. Raising his blue eyes, Spot nearly had to crane his neck to see the face of this stranger and was surprised at the wide, open expression that smiled at him.

"Hello! Names Shane, I'm Mr. Simon's grandson and Naomi asked me ta stop ovah hear and check on ya?" He had a lilting, Irish accent, dark blue eyes and his short hair was only a shade lighter than Naomi's dark tresses.

Nothing about the guy sent signals off in Spot's brain, except he suddenly felt the need to straighten his spine to make himself just a little taller next to this giant, "Yeah." He replied, stepping back to let him through, "Naomi said you'd be over." Pausing for a moment, he finally, reluctantly, put out his hand to the Irishman, "Spot Conlon."

Shane stepped in and took Spot's hand in his own massive one and shook, "Nice ta meet you." He smiled, but a sudden serious look entered his eyes as he went over to the kitchen table and took a seat in one of the chairs.

It was silent for a moment as they stared each other down. Shane may have been a big man, but Spot was Spot Conlon even if he no longer was the King of Brooklyn. Without breaking eye contact, Spot moved over to his sandwich and took a bite, the tension in the air blatant. Raising an eyebrow, he swallowed his food and finally asked, "Ya got somethin' ya wanna say?"

"As a mattah of fact," Shane began, "I do." He paused for a moment as Mortimer flew over to the table and nibbled his finger affectionately, "If I hear from Naomi that you're taking advantage of this family I'll not be happy. There's not a family in New York, or anywhere else, as kind and generous as the Snow's. Just because there's no man in the house doesn't mean there's not one willing to stand up for them." His dark blue eyes met Spot's lighter ones in a steady stare, "Clear?"

Spot felt a fierce stab of something foreign, something he identified as jealousy after a moment that was soon followed by protectiveness at the thought of the three kind, green-eyed girls who'd taken in a beat up boy off the street, "Clear." Spot growled, "But, I'll have ya know dat I'm da last person ya gotta worry about hoitin' dem girls."

A glimmer of respect sparked in Shane's eyes and it mirrored in Spot's as the men relaxed, each understood by the other. Finally, out of curiosity, he asked, "How long ya known da Snow's?"

Shane shrugged, "Well, Mr. Simon took me in when I was eight and Naomi was only a year youngah and we basically grew up tagethah. Don't see her much lately since I got my own place in Midtown, closah ta my work, but I come here on my days off ta check in on granda and stop over to say hi. Had some errands, did she?"

Spot polished off his sandwich, wondering about the 'took me in' part. Not many people took in orphans; Shane seemed to be an exception to that, though. Again, he wondered how luck came to some while others hid under their bed late at night while their mother screamed at how they were a worthless piece of shit that would never amount to anything. He could still picture her stumbling in the room, could still feel as she grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him outside as it rained around them. He could hear her screaming up at the sky, telling God or whoever was on the street to listen to take the 'filth' that was her four-year-old son.

"Yeah and she was visitin' a friend." He replied, his tone cold as he turned away to gaze outside the kitchen window. He pushed away the old memories along with the bitterness that always followed. It was almost a never-ending cycle. The past always caught up to him and it was a punch to the gut now, after the almost-paradise of staying here. It was about enough for him to dread his arm healing, because he knew once it was he had to leave this place and go back to Brooklyn. Back to the hard life of a newsboy, living on the streets, barely eating and being in a constant state of filth. Not to mention that the only future with him going back to Brooklyn involved disappearances of a few traitors, though it wasn't something he'd revel in he knew it was a necessity.

"A friend?" Shane sounded surprised.

At the tone of his voice, Spot turned back around, "That so big a surprise?" He asked, keeping his face smooth as he watched the man in front of him.

Shane shrugged in that nonchalant way he seemed to have, which contrasted with his brawny-self. "I wouldn't be surprised she had friends except da ones I know of she's kind of lost touch with since her pa died. She say a name?"

Spot shook his head, wondering about this new information. He had been suspicious the night before, hearing the lie she told but not understanding what she had to lie about to him. It wasn't as if he actually _cared_ where she was. She could be robbing a bank, on her way westward or even with a beau.

Except just thinking about that last thing had his stomach rolling, which was something he didn't feel the need to look too deeply into. Before he could ask anything else, Shane stood. His height made the apartment feel twice as small as usual and he held out his massive hand for a last shake, "Nice chattin' with ya, Spot. Seems like ya doin' awright here on ya own. I'll see ya around sometime."

Spot nodded his head briskly as if he was concluding a meeting with a borough leader and gave his favorite type of answer, an open ended one that made no commitments or promises, "Shoah."

Just like that, Spot was left alone once again in the apartment with no one but a starling for company. Mortimer, who'd been strangely quiet during the men's exchange, suddenly took flight, circled around the ceiling a few times before landing lightly on Spot's shoulder. He turned to look back out the kitchen window before taking another guess, "Bet ya stick around for da warm shelter, huh?" He was met with silence from the bird.

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this! We'll get back to Naomi and Jack in the next chapter! Please review! **

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything is is property of their respective owners.**


	8. They're coming back

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**They're coming back and you just don't know when"**_

_Naomi took a moment to look at the boy before her. He was tall, much taller than Spot with a red bandanna tied around his neck, a cowboy hat hanging on his back and dark, brown hair that seemed to fall in his eyes of the same dark brown. Before she could stop herself, she asked him, "Can I trust you, Jack?"_

Jack paused at her question and finally took a good look at her. He stood there for a moment while she let him study her before he finally pulled out the chair across from her, intrigued in spite of himself as leaned back casually. Glancing around at his fellow newsies, he finally turned back and replied, "Depends."

"On?" She prompted gently.

Raising an eyebrow, he sat up and leaned across the table, making her instinctively lean forward to meet him as he spoke lowly, "On what ya thinkin' about trustin me with." He paused before clarifying, "If it's somethin' I thinks important, I'm ya man."

She bit down gently on her bottom lip, wondering if she should take the risk, before letting it go along with her doubts and finally asking, "You know Spot Conlon, right?"

"Yeah, Ise hoid of him." Was his almost instant reply. She took it as a good sign, that perhaps his discretion was because he considered Spot a friend and wouldn't betray him.

Letting her gaze flicker around to make sure no one could over hear, she murmured, "Can you tell me what you know about his downfall?"

Surprise flickered across his face before he asked, "What's it to ya? Ya obviously not a newsie. Why are you interested in Spot Conlon?"

Realizing she wouldn't get anywhere with Jack being so closed off, she decided he needed to know the truth. Taking a breath, she slowly exhaled before shrugging her shoulder lightly and telling him, "Just wondering how deep the guy sleeping on my couch has got himself into."

This statement instantly stunned the man in front her. He took a moment to get his bearings together before he stood up and grabbed her arm. Pulling her out of her seat and out of Tibby's, he towed her along the streets of Manhattan for about ten minutes before finally stopping in front of a large, Vaudeville theater. Opening a side door, he pushed her in while following close behind and shutting the door loudly. Awed, she stared around at the back room which was obviously a changing room for the performers and a storage area for some of the stage equipment. "Why'd you bring me here?" She asked, glancing up the stairs where she heard the soft, cadence of music coming.

"We needed privacy. Ya can't just go sayin' stuff out in da open, there are ears everywhere and especially now." He leaned against the wall next to the door and studied her for the second time before asking, "So, Spot's with you? He's awright?" There was an underlying of concern and she almost felt relieved that Jack was a friend and someone she could trust.

Turning back to him, she smiled, "Besides being stubborn, gruff, and arrogant, yes."

Jack chuckled, "He's always been dose t'ings. Be hard ta change what ya been foah so long." The newsboy paused, almost debating how to say what he had to say next. Naomi stayed silent, waiting patiently for whatever words he was looking to say. "He's got all da newsies in a whirl. Rumors from him being invincible, livin' in da sewers and waitin' foah the right moment ta strike back, ta him taking off westward."

It was Naomi's turn to laugh, "The rumors are always better than the actual truth." She gave her own moment of silence, her laughter turning serious before meeting his brown eyes, "How bad is it?"

Sighing, Jack ran a hand through his hair and started to pace in the small space, "Not good." He stopped and turned to her, "Ise thought I should ask ya name, but maybe it's safer if I don't…"

"Tell me what happened and what's going on and we'll decide then if we need such measures." She replied as he trailed off.

"Awright, sounds fair." Beginning his pacing once more, he told her all he knew, "Racetrack hoid from a Brooklyn boy dat one of Spot's newsies, Lightah, attacked him in an alley a couple weeks back and since den Spot's been missing. Lightah claimed to have killed him; he had Spot's cane and slingshot but no body. Brooklyn's been in chaos evah since, fighting amongst demselves. From what I heard, Lightah couldn't control things and Spot had more supporters than I guess he estimated. Someone was smaht enough ta send some boys to different lodging houses ta check for Spot, though, but as you know no one's seen a hair of him. Was beginnin' ta lose hope dat he was still alive, honestly."

"Are they still looking?" She asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Shrugging, Jack placed his cowboy hat on his head and leaned against the wall again, "Nah, not really. Too much fighting going on there, no othah borough wants to even touch that mess." He stopped, remembering something, "Actually, there has been a Brooklyn newsie in Manhattan and dat's Ruckus. He originally came ta me about a week aftah it all happened. Claiming that he helped Spot and that Spot should be here but he obviously wasn't. Da kid looked frantic dat Spot wasn't here…if anyone could save Brooklyn, it'd be Spot." Jack had a thoughtful look on his face when he finally turned his gaze back on her. "So, whatya say?"

Naomi glanced up the stairs as the music died away to a few cheers from the afternoon audience and a beautiful red-haired woman came swooping down the stairs in a lavender dress. "Jack Kelly!" she exclaimed as soon as she saw him, her smile genuine. "It's been so long since you visited me!" When she reached the bottom of the steps she caught site of Naomi and she threw a sidelong glance at Jack, "And who is your lovely friend?"

"Naomi." Naomi replied, immediately liking this woman, but leaving out her last name so that Jack wouldn't know too much about her.

"Medda Larkson, the svedish meadow lark. It is a pleasure to meet you, Naomi and what a beautiful name you have." She replied with a curtsy.

"We're just needed somewhere private to tawk, dat awright with you, Medda?" Jack asked charmingly.

"Why of course, Jack!" Music began to play again and she started her way back up, while saying, "It was nice to meet you Naomi and Jack you better visit me more often."

Jack nodded and smiled until she was gone, her singing clear for a moment before she moved farther away on stage. It was silent between them for a minute before Naomi finally spoke, "Well, I found Spot the night he got…attacked. My mother's a nurse and we've been taking care of him the last few weeks. He mentioned your name a few times and…" She trailed off, embarrassed.

"Wanted ta know more about him?" Jack chuckled, "Spot's not exactly…open."

She nodded, "I've noticed." It grew quiet between them as Naomi thought over what Jack had told her. "So, what happens if Spot's found before he's healed?"

"Whats da mattah with him?" Jack asked, curiously.

"The ribs are just about healed, he had a broken arm though which won't be fully healed till the end of summer or so."

Sighing, he straightened up from his slouch against the wall and pulled his hat off once more to run a hand through, "He can't be found, simple as dat. Da wrong person would hurt him worse, even da right person wouldn't be able ta help him till he's healed. Maybe we should meet every few weeks just so you can tell me how he's doin'? That way, when he's better, ya send him to me and Manhattan will have his back when he goes to reclaim Brooklyn."

Naomi couldn't help feeling surprised, "He's going to go back to Brooklyn? Even after what happened?"

He chuckled, "Brooklyn ain't Brooklyn without Spot and Spot ain't Spot without Brooklyn, sweetheaht."

**A/N: Sorry if it seemed short! I had it much longer, but it seemed rushed so I cut out a bit and the next chapter should be a bit longer.**** I hope you guys like what's been happening so far, and thanks to all who've continually reviewed. Keep them up! Let me know how I did on Jack's character in one!**

**Truly, **

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
><strong>


	9. My own two hands will comfort you

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**My own two hands will comfort you"**_

_**June**_

May soon turned into June and Spot was honestly surprised by how content life was with the Snow's. The periods of laughter far outweighed the yelling, though it wasn't perfect. Bea often times got on her older sister's nerves but it was normal. Mrs. Levy fell ill the first week so Mrs. Snow had her stay home with Naomi and Spot. He was almost positive they'd end up strangling each other before the week was out but it never happened. The saying that blood was thinker than water seemed to apply to this family and it inwardly baffled him every time.

As the month progressed, Spot noticed the air in the apartment turn from happiness to bittersweet, to sadness. On the twenty-second, after finishing dinner, he watched Mrs. Snow hug Naomi, who seemed more upset than the other two, and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "I have off tomorrow, but I'll have to go in Sunday." Mrs. Snow said her voice soft and low.

Naomi only nodded and began to clean up the table before starting the dishes. Mrs. Snow cast him a sad smile before putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, and then heading to bed.

He stood, moved to grab a dish towel to help dry just as a glass slipped out of Naomi's hand and shattered on the floor. Falling to her knees, she began to clean it up quickly.

"Is everything alright?" Her mother called out of the room.

"It's fine. I've got it." Naomi shouted back, but only he heard the slight quiver as he leaned down to help her pick up the shards, "Be caref-" she began to tell him but she cut herself off with a gasp as a piece slipped through her finger and a trail of bright red began to blossom from the finger. Abruptly, she dropped what was in her hand to stick her finger in her mouth

Spot quickly grabbed the broom and dustpan and swept up the remaining pieces before tossing it in the trash bin and going over to the girl. Her black hair was down as was usual, but she seemed less put together than usual because it was messy as it blocked her face from sight. Slowly, he lowered himself down beside her, "Lemme see." He murmured, holding out his hand.

With great care, she removed her finger from her mouth and set her hand in his. He marveled silently at how small and delicate they were before looking at the cut, it wasn't deep and it had already stopped bleeding. "See? Not deep. You'll be just fine." He told her, dipping his head slightly to meet her green eyes through her mass of hair.

The moment their eyes met, tears began to fall and she was suddenly wrapping her arms around his neck, her body beginning to shake in silent sobs as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Stunned, he sat there, one arm at his side, the other in its sling pinned between their bodies. Then, gradually he brought his good arm up to rub her back in comfort which seemed only to make her shake more.

Spot looked around the kitchen, wondering if Bea or Mrs. Snow would come out and comfort her in a way he was sure he couldn't, but the door was shut and no light came out from underneath them so he knew they were asleep. He tried not to think the horribly inappropriate thoughts like how her body was pressed against his, how her head fit into the crook of his neck and how her arms felt around his neck. She was crying so he shouldn't be picturing those lips in his mind, but he was.

They sat like that so long that his leg started to go numb but he ignored it as he continued to rub her back gently. "Shhh." He murmured trying to calm her and it seemed to work because her body stopped shaking and finally she unlatched herself from around his neck and moved back from him.

Even though it was June and the summer air was sticky hot, the lack of her body against him was like a bucket of ice thrown on him and he tried to ignore what that could mean. What was he doing? When had the King of Brooklyn ever comforted a crying girl? What was happening to him?

Except when he watched her, drying her tears and looking away in embarrassment, he knew there was no way he could have pushed her away. That thought alone was enough to cause the smallest stab of fear to pierce him in the pit of his stomach. Because when you let someone in, it gave them the opening to hurt you and Spot had had that happen too many times. That in turn made him angry because hadn't he learned? After all these years, he _knew_ that he could only count on himself, so why was being here with these women giving him all these foreign emotions? Emotions that were messy, complicated, and didn't solve his problems in the least. What had they done to him?

Pushing himself back from her with his good arm, he leaned against the counter and watched her silently. He knew she'd apologize, could already hear her in his mind, and then she'd explain. She was a terrible liar, he had realized some time ago. She'd been lying to him every couple of weeks when she went to visit her 'friend'. The mysterious person she never told him about.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet and strained as she wiped her cheeks, which were red and splotchy. Crying did not look attractive on her, he thought as her blood-shot and watery eyes met his. "I-it'll be two years ago tomorrow since my father died."

It was as simple as that. "Come here." He said, motioning to the side with his good arm and she crawled the short way to sit next to him, curling up beside him as he put his arm around her.

Silly, how easily this one person had wormed her way inside him. It had been barely three months and already he couldn't imagine _not_ seeing her everyday; which confused him because his plans to go back to Brooklyn had not changed. He could already forgive her for keeping whatever secret she had because he had plenty of secrets himself. Besides that, she was always so honest and just so _good_ one could assume she was an angel. He couldn't imagine her secret hurting him in anyway. It was almost laughable that they sat here because girls like her did not often give boys like him the time a day. Not to mention he was sure he'd have despised her had he met her on the streets. One smart word from that pretty mouth would have had him grinding his teeth and walking away, cane tapping lightly on the ground.

Back then he'd only liked the easy ones because they couldn't get to him. He could use them and toss 'em at a single moment's notice and none could get close enough to stab him in the back. Someone like Naomi would have escaped his radar had events not forced them together in this tiny apartment.

"Sorry." She murmured again, bringing him from his unsettling thoughts.

"Foah what? Having emotions?" He asked, chuckling slightly before adding, teasingly, "Just goes ta show ya human."

She avoided his eyes as she told him, "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't. Then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much."

He jerked his head in her direction, removing his arm from around her to turn her chin to face him, eyes blazing as he told her sharply, "Never wish that. I've known plenty who weren't human. They didn't mind stabbing someone in da back. Not even their brother." The surprise in her face forced him to loosen his grip and soften his voice as he added, "Ya family are the closest ta human I've evah seen. Ya didn't deserve ta lose ya father, but sometimes losing people shows us just how strong we actually are."

Letting his grip on her go completely, he settled his arm back around her and for some time they sat there in silence, taking comfort in each other's presence. For the first time ever, Spot let himself relax.

_**July**_

Half way through July, Spot felt himself hit his breaking point. He was so restless, cooped up in the apartment all day every day with nothing but cooking, cleaning, and the occasional card game to occupy his time. He yearned to go outside; farther than the rooftop which was the only place Naomi would let him.

"Come on, Naomi, just down the block ta buy a pape." He tried to reason with her one morning.

"Yeah and if that newsboy happens to be friends with your enemies and follows you back down the street right here to this apartment, what then?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips and meeting his level gaze, "You can get into fights, but don't you bring your enemies back here, Spot Conlon."

He glared, hating how she was right and how he readily agreed with her. The last thing he wanted was to see Lily, Bea, and most especially Naomi in harm's way because of him. That would be a nice thank you. Not.

Grumbling, he shuffled off to go up the fire escape but stopped abruptly when she called out, "I have an idea."

"Go on." He replied, waiting for a terrible idea with his back still towards her.

He heard her walk towards him and around him to meet him face-to-face, "How about we go out tonight. Just after sunset. So it won't be late, but it'll be too dark for anyone to really recognize you."

It grew quiet as he thought it over. It was a good idea, they could stay out of light of the street lamps, and no one would think he was up walking around. "I think dis could work."

A bright smile broke out across her face and his heart nearly skipped a beat. They hadn't had any close contact since that night. They hadn't talked about it and things had gone almost back to normal, except he had the occasional inappropriate thought every now and then. Actually, more often than that but it wasn't something he'd readily admit to.

Once Bea and Mrs. Snow were home, they explained their plans and the two agreed an evening walk would be nice. They ate an early dinner and when the sun had nearly fallen below the horizon they locked the door behind them and headed out into the nearly empty streets. A man on horseback was moving down the street in the opposite direction, lighting the oil lamps.

"Mm, what a wonderful evening." Naomi commented, looping one arm through Bea's and the other through Spot's good arm.

Bea nodded her head vigorously in agreement and looped her free arm through her mother's. "It's nice to get out."

They passed an older couple strolling along the opposite way and they smiled and nodded to them. They all smiled back in greeting and kept walking, "How far should we go?" Mrs. Snow asked after the first block.

"Oh, I wish Central Park wasn't so far." Naomi commented, "I bet it'd be lovely tonight. I haven't been there since last summer." She informed Spot.

He gave her a rare, genuine smile, "Same goes foah me. Of course, I used ta go ta Prospect Park or Battery Park in Brooklyn."

Bea leaned forward to meet Spot's gaze, "I've never been to Brooklyn before."

His mouth fell open in shock and the three women laughed as he sputtered, "No?"

Naomi shook her head, still laughing lightly, "None of us have. Not much reason to and my father use to tell me it wasn't the safest place."

"Listen, if you come there with me ain't no one gonna give ya trouble. I'll make shoah of that." He told her seriously. She glanced away and he wondered if she knew he was going back, if maybe him leaving upset her too much to think about. The thought of her missing him lightly stroked his ego before giving him a sort of pain in the left region of his chest that he tried to ignore.

They passed a vendor closing up his stall, but hesitated as he saw them approach, "Would ya like ta buy any fresh fruit?" He asked, respectively though none of them were dressed in any sort of finery. Spot glanced over the three girls, though, and thought that although they didn't dress in the best the Snow's seemed to all hold themselves in a way that would leave no doubt in your mind they were ladies.

Bea eyed the man, "How fresh can they be if they've been here all day and you're closing up now, sir?" She was thirteen, but young and pretty enough to get away with cheeky questions.

"Beatrice that is not a nice question to ask." Mrs. Snow scolded lightly.

The man's shoulders fell and he said, rather embarrassed, "Well, she's right, m'am. I'll give you half off whatever you'd like since I'm about ta close." He looked at the four expectantly and Spot surveyed him as Naomi leaned forward to gaze at the fruit. He was in his early thirties, tall, lean with shocking orange hair and bright blue eyes. It did not go unnoticed that he kept sneaking peeks at Mrs. Snow.

"Look, Spot! These grapes are a nice purple and firm. I bet they're sweet." Naomi told him, pulling him forward as she took a closer look. He'd quickly learned that grapes were her favorite while Bea and Mrs. Snow both favored pears. They had a small discussion on what to buy and if they could stretch their money when the vendor asked how much they were willing to spend. When they gave him an answer, he agreed to give them four pears, a bunch of grapes and an apple for half the price they had told him.

"That's a steal!" Mrs. Snow told the man, "We couldn't possibly…you're being far too kind Mr.…"

He smiled at her, "Moran. Aidan Moran. And it's no problem. I've done very well today and I just take care of myself so I don't mind giving your family a break."

"No wife?" Mrs. Snow asked, "But, surely you have your own family. We couldn't accept such a low cost for all that fruit."

Spot watched the exchange in interest as Aidan waved it away, telling her he didn't mind and that he was a widower so it was the least he could do to help such a lovely woman and her children.

"Mother, don't look a gift horse in the mouth." Naomi teased lightly, leaning over Bea to pull the money from her mother's hand and giving it to the fruit vendor, "Thank you so much, Mr. Moran. Perhaps you'll see my mother, her name's Lily, on her way to work tomorrow."

Lily Snow ran a hand over her wheat blonde hair, smoothing back the loose strands and giving a soft smile to Aidan, "Yes, I've gone by you many of times but I usually leave the shopping up to my oldest here, Naomi."

Aidan returned the smile, "You have two lovely daughters, you're husband must be very proud."

Bea, noticing what was going on, looked up at Mr. Moran with large, doe eyes, "My poor papa died a couple years back, God rest his soul." She told him and Spot hid a smirk as she wiped away a fake tear.

Naomi caught his eye and winked, before taking the bag of fruit off the man, "Maybe we'll see you around. Thank you, again, for such a great deal."

A sparkle of hope had appeared in his eye and he smiled and tipped an imaginary hat at the foursome as they turned to head back towards home. The soft dusk that had hung around after the sunset was quickly turning darker and the girls weren't use to being on the streets so late.

Bea and Mrs. Snow took longer strides the last block, talking and giggling about Mr. Moran. Naomi fell back with Spot as they neared the apartment building and she gave him a smile, "Glad we did this. We might have to do it more often. Did you see how that man made eyes at my mother? It was incredibly sweet."

"Well, ya mothah is somethin' else." He informed her; silently glad when she looped her arm back through his good one.

The dark-haired girl at his side bumped her hip lightly against his, "She is. She's a Henry woman, though, so that means automatically that she's wonderful. At least, that's what my grandfather use to say."

"Henry women, aye?" He asked as they stopped in front of her building and just stood there, too content to be in the summer air to go inside the stuffy apartment. "I'll have ta keep my eyes open foah one of them."

She laughed at his teasing, "Better look fast, it's said that they fall in love very young but that it's always true love."

He raised his eyebrows at that, "Yeah?"

Naomi nodded, "My mother was sixteen. My grandmother had been fourteen. Of course, my mother had it a bit harder because she was upper class and gave it all up for my father. Not that my grandparents really gave her a hard time, they liked my father and helped out as much as possible but my mother sometimes got frustrated because she wanted to be independent. Which, I guess, we are now that all three have passed away."

Spot watched her face, "Ya sixteen, aren't ya?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen at the end of summer." She didn't meet his eyes and he wondered if she had found her true love. If that was the person she went to see every few weeks and he suddenly felt silly, liking her as much as he did when her heart was not in it. But, she didn't exactly act like her heart wasn't in it so what if he was wrong?

He took a sudden step forward and she turned to meet his unwavering gaze. If she kissed him back, he decided then there was a chance. If not…well, he'd deal with it if it happened. "Can I kiss ya?" He'd never asked a girl permission before, just stealing kisses from girls he knew he could have but Naomi was different. Different from any girl he'd ever met because he didn't know he could have her and if he could, could he keep her? She was so _good_ and he didn't have the cleanest past by any means.

"Yes." Was her simple reply, but he noticed her green eyes had darkened just a touch before he closed the distance between them, pulling her closer by putting his good arm around her waist.

The heat of her body against his, the feel of her soft lips as they met his nearly had him groan. Her arms circled around his neck and played with the hair at the nape and that caused tiny sparks from her fingers to slide down his spine. She sighed against his lips and he knew that whoever she saw couldn't mean so much to her if she was kissing him. That thought had him feeling like he was on top of the world. Slowly, he let his tongue slip out and brush across her bottom lip and he reveled in the taste of her when she opened her mouth to let him in.

When they broke apart, he felt her sag against him and tightened his arm, "You awright?" He asked, worried.

"Mhm. Just made my knees weak." She told him, laying her head on his shoulder and looking up at him shyly.

That small, genuine statement floored him. He loved her blunt honesty. Chuckling, he pulled her to the steps of the apartment building, "Bettah go in befoah ya muddah starts worrying."

"Wait." She said, stopping him at the top, "One more?"

That question made him laugh a full real laugh and he was still shaking with laughter when he closed the distance between them once more.

**A/N: Oops, forgot to put one of these in here. Not much to say, hope you're all enjoying! As always, thanks to those who keep reviewing and for those reading, drop me a review! Btws, this isn't the end! Just a little bit of happiness before...well, I won't say anymore! You'll just have to wait!**

**Truly, **

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
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	10. Unaware the stare from someone

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**Unaware the stare from someone"**_

_**August**_

Naomi was surprised it was August already, though she tried her best not to think of the future. Things since their first walk in July had been blissful and as bright as the summer around them and the thought of Spot leaving nearly made her heart stop.

She knew she had come off this morning as withdrawn, but Spot didn't say a word as he ate his eggs and watched her clean up the dishes from her mother and sister; his electric blue eyes following her as she moved around and it seemed he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her. They hadn't talked about him leaving, she wasn't even sure he knew that she knew, but every time she met up with Jack it seemed more and more inevitable to her. How could Spot stay with her and her family when he could go back to being the King of Brooklyn?

Before she left, telling him she was going to run errands and conveniently leaving off that she was meeting up with anyone, he'd pulled her close and gave her a kiss that she'd likely not forget anytime soon. It made her wonder if he knew she was meeting up with someone and didn't want her forgetting about him which was silly because she could barely think of anyone else when he was around.

Stepping into Tibby's she immediately caught Jack's eye at a back booth and she walked briskly over and settled down across from him.

Jack leaned back and gave her a smile, "How's he doin'?"

"Better, though not in top condition. I'm worried." She gave a sheepish grin.

Jack raised an eyebrow, "About?"

Naomi sighed and glanced out the window, taking her time as she thought how to phrase her worries and looking at the people passing by. They were packed tightly as they made their way down the sidewalk past vendors and one or two newsboys. She watched as an upper class girl strode by with her beau, arm slipped through his as her maid trailed along behind. A teenage boy skulked behind them, definitely not part of their party with his ragged pants and rolled up sleeves. He glanced in the dining room at her before looking away and continuing on. Going the opposite way were two girls, a blonde and a brunette, arms looped and though they looked Naomi's age they wore the same grubby clothes as the newsboys except they had waistcoats and top hats on.

Naomi chuckled and Jack followed her gaze to see them as they entered the restaurant and took a seat across from an Italian boy with a giant cigar and the boy with the eye patch she'd seen often times near her apartment.

"That's Wicked and Joker." Jack told her, a small smile playing on his lips as they waved at him in unison before turning back to the other boys. "They use ta run with Spot in Brooklyn befoah t'ings fell apart. Been stayin' with us since he's gone missin'."

Naomi cocked her head to the side, "They just up and left Brooklyn?"

Jack nodded, "They're well known Spot-supporters. Wouldn'ta been safe foah them ta stick around."

She glanced over at the two pretty girls who had somehow gotten caught up in the crazy life of newsie politics before turning back to the matter at hand, "Spot and I…we've gotten closer and I'm just…worried he's going to hate me for going behind his back. Even if I'm trying to keep him safe, you know?"

The newsie stared at her, picked up his drink and glanced around before finally opening his mouth, "Ise undahstand but look, Naomi, ya seem like a nice girl and a smart one. I just think it's bettah if ya know now…Spot's not the best guy ta be gettin'…'close' ta."

"Why?" She asked, truly curious.

He leaned back, scrutinizing her with his brown eyes, "Spot's infamous for having many girls. He never stays with one."

For a moment she wanted to ask him about the Spot he knew the proud, stern leader of Brooklyn but then she remembered the bitter, angry boy who'd awakened on her couch snarling and she didn't want to know. Just thinking of him snapping at her put an ache in her chest because she knew his past was probably worse than she could imagine. Funny, how something as simple as being kind and caring could soothe someone with so much hate. "Well, I don't know him as you do. I'm not worried about being hurt." She told him, even while she knew that was a lie. She was worried about being hurt, but she also had begun to prepare herself little by little everyday for the time when, regardless of all the sweet, stolen kisses, he'd leave her for his city.

It was something she didn't understand, and yet when she asked him about it every now and then a spark would light behind those blue eyes and she knew she couldn't compete with it. Brooklyn to Spot was like nursing to her. It was something that was so much a part of them they couldn't do without it.

Except, she thought briefly and bitterly, Spot had a chance of being King again whereas there was no where that would take a girl who had no education in nursing. Looking away from Jack, she changed the subject from her thoughts, "Have you heard anymore from Brooklyn?"

At once, Jack's demeanor got serious and a wary look came into his eyes, "Things have gotten…a lot worse."

A sick sense of dread fell into the pit of her stomach, "How bad?"

His jaw clenched for a moment before he opened and told her, "Brooklyn's little civil war," he said that with a touch of revulsion, "is crossin' inta Queen's territory and that does not make their leader, Clash, very happy. Not to mention Lighter's disappeared. Things are just gettin' worse and I hope they don't start comin' across that bridge."

She nodded but had stopped listening, too caught up in her thoughts. Brooklyn was burning, so to speak, and there was nothing he could do about it. Things were getting worse and it worried her that Spot was going to jump in as soon as he was healed. What if things continued to worsen and he ended up the same as before, or…dead? Suddenly, being here and away from him was more than she could bare.

Standing, she put down some coins for her coffee that she'd been nursing before reaching out a hand to shake Jack's, "Thanks, Jack. I'll keep in touch. I need to get back." Without another word, she was out the door and heading down the street as fast as she could go without full out running.

"There ya are." Spot said the moment she came back, his voice as familiar to her now as her mother's or Bea's; his presence even more so.

"How was your day?" She asked him only half listening as her thoughts fretted over her secret.

Spot raised his eyebrow, seeming to take note at her inattention as she set down the basket she carried and moved over to grab a glass of water, "Hot." He replied as he watched her take a long, greedy gulp.

She set the glass down, "Usual for August." Was her lame comment as she leaned against the counter and waved a newspaper like a fan, the urgency to get home to him beginning to fade away and a feeling of foolishness taking its place as she stood here in front of him, whole and well.

"Wanna ansah somethin' foah me?" He suddenly asked, startling her from her thoughts.

"Ask away." She said, turning away from him to glance out of the window for Mortimer, who'd been strangely absent the last two days.

It was silent for so long, she found herself rounding to meet him. He seemed satisfied with this and finally asked, "Who ya been seeing?"

"Just a friend." She replied, perhaps too quickly while diverting her eyes.

He stood up from the table so suddenly she flinched at the loud scrape of his chair on the floor. Striding over, he stood in front of her, their gaze level with one another as his blue eyes pierced her green ones. "You've been givin' me dat ansah since May. If ya keep seeing them, then they must mean somethin' to ya."

_You mean something to me_ was her immediate thought and for once it didn't surprise her. The last four months had flown by, but with every day she spent talking, laughing and teasing him she knew she was only falling harder for him. It wasn't how her mother had fallen for her father, describing it as 'like being hit by a train. You're crippled with the feelings.' But rather, Naomi felt like it was being put in a pot of cool water while the flame slowly began to bring the pot to boil and you don't realize it till the water begins to bubble over you.

She'd known it, of course, since they'd kissed but though things hadn't progressed as much as some would think of two young adults living in such close quarters, she knew her feelings were real. Her mother had been right about one thing; Naomi knew she'd never be the same after Spot left.

Right there was where reality usually kicked in because she knew Jack was also right. Spot Conlon was going back to Brooklyn the minute his arm was better and he wasn't going to look back.

"He doesn't mean anything to me." She responded, eyes widening when she realized her mistake.

Something flashed across his lightning blue eyes and was gone just as fast and he took a step back from her, "Well." For once, it seemed as if he had nothing to say.

One more step back and she watched as he pulled up the mask that she hadn't seen in quite awhile. He'd been so open with them lately, laughing at the jokes Bea told and talking to her mother about her job as a nurse; especially since he'd held her and kissed her. He'd even woken up earlier than her this very morning to cook her eggs just as she liked them.

"Spot." She started, stepping towards him.

He shook his head, "Its fine, Naomi. Ya don't gotta tell me. Keep ya secrets." He turned away from her and crawled out the window with the fire escape, climbing up them with an ease that surprised her given his injury.

"He's Jack." Naomi told the empty apartment, wishing she could tell him and at the same time glad she hadn't. She knew that Spot wouldn't have liked her going behind his back, not even if she was trying to protect him.

Across the street, Lighter chuckled as he lightly tapped his stolen and ill-won cane. He couldn't believe that after all these months, Spot Conlon's luck had finally run out and things were catching up with him. After spending two months fighting others in Brooklyn for possession and title of king, Lighter had left Midnight in his place to find out exactly where Spot was.

Of course, his first thought had been Ruckus. The strange, gawky boy Spot had kept as a bird and a secret spy among his own newsies for quite some time. He'd thought Ruckus would know exactly where Spot was, but after tailing him for a few weeks it turned out he knew no more than anyone else.

Lighter's patience had paid off though because he knew there had to be someone who knew even the tiniest of information.

It seemed Ruckus along with those insufferable twins had taken notice of the pretty, raven haired girl who'd come to visit Jack every few weeks. After just two meetings, Ruckus had once again become a spy and she was his target. But, it hadn't ever paid off until today.

Funny, how one small girl had managed to get away from one of Spot's birds not once, but twice after he'd started following her and if Ruckus wasn't following her, then he couldn't lead Lighter to her. Poor kid was losing his touch because he was so focused on finding the former king of Brooklyn he hadn't paid the least bit of attention on see if anyone followed _him_.

So, with the help of Wicked and Joker here they all were. Lighter could see the twins on the right side of the girl's apartment building, leaning casually as if they were only out for a stroll; below him, in the alley across from that same apartment building stood Ruckus, scrutinizing the entire perimeter of the structure before them.

_Bingo_, he thought. Spot's luck really had run its course because just as he grew antsy, the second floor window on the left opened and a figure climbed out and made its way fast up the fire escape. Once they were on the roof, they stopped and even from this distance Lighter knew that person. His light, brown hair nearly blonde in the summer sun was longer, his arm was in a sling, and he'd filled out with the consistent meals but there was no mistaking that stance, the arrogant swagger as he paced back and forth.

A whistle from below had Lighter tearing his eyes from his foe and looking to see Ruckus crossing the street, the twins moving at a right angle to meet him on the sidewalk and follow him up the fire escape.

If things were as he thought, that Spot didn't know the girl was seeing his Manhattan friend, then these three fools were about to rat her out and knowing Spot Conlon…he'd be out of there faster than you could say 'Brooklyn'. On the street alone with an injury would be the perfect opportunity for Lighter to exact his revenge.

Except as he watched the four on the roof, he glanced down and noticed a pretty face peeking out of the open window on the second floor, looking skyward as if expecting something to fly through her window and a brilliant plan began to slowly form in his mind.

**A/N: See? Didn't make you all wait too long! Hope the little outside POV caught your attention! Leave me a review and tell what you think!  
><strong>

**Truly, **

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
><strong>


	11. Now we're here and it turns to chaos

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"**_Now we're here and it turns to chaos"_**

He shouldn't have asked. Plain and simple. Hadn't he told himself a month ago that he'd let her have her secrets? But, back then he thought that after they'd kissed she'd stop seeing whoever this was.

Except she hadn't.

Could it be that this person really did mean anything to her? That it really was only a friend and he was causing problems just because he wasn't use to this blissful relationship they had. He expected things to turn to shit and since it hadn't happened yet he had to twist small things into large problems. What was wrong with him? He thought savagely, running a hand through his hair as he paced the rooftop.

Footsteps coming up the fire escape had him sighing in relief. She'd followed him, he could apologize…but when he turned to face the person he was absolutely shocked to see Ruckus and Wicked walking towards him just as Joker climbed onto the roof.

Seeing his three most loyal newsies quickly brought around the habitual mask he'd adorned as King of Brooklyn and he would have folded his arms had he been able to. Instead, he raised one eyebrow inquiringly and stared at the three before him.

"Sir-" Wicked exclaimed, identical smiles pulling across both her and Joker's face.

"-we've found you!" Joker finished.

Spot didn't miss the eye roll from Ruckus as he stepped in front of them to address Spot directly, "Spot! How'd ya manage it?" A look of awe fell over the younger boys face, "Did ya have this safe house as backup in case this happened? Is Raven a secret bird?"

For a moment, Spot was at a loss for words, "whatya tawkin' about, Ruck?"

"Oh, sorry we don't know her name. The dark hair girl you're staying with, is she one of ya birds? We took ta callin' her Raven and we thought ya sent her to Jack every few weeks ta keep an eye on Brooklyn." Ruckus tilted his head, "Ya did, didn't ya, Spot?"

What Ruckus was saying began to slowly click together. Naomi was seeing Jack, had been this entire time behind his back. Scenarios of what her ulterior motives were began to play through his mind. Was she being paid to watch over him until she could hand him over to his enemies? It didn't make sense, but he almost didn't care _why_ she was doing it. Only that she had.

Spot chuckled, though there was nothing funny about it except that he was _surprised_ Naomi had betrayed him. This was the first one in a long time he hadn't seen coming and the pain was worse than any since his mother's. He couldn't believe he'd thought so highly of her. What a trick she was, pretending to be so innocent and good while she could very well be the worse of the lot. The sudden ache began to form in his chest and his chuckle died away as it felt like the entire world had flipped upside down on him. _Not Naomi_, he subconscious whispered, but then he thought _why _not _Naomi? How was she any different than anyone else?_

"Took ya t'ree long enough ta find me." He commented lightly, meeting Ruckus' grey eyes before turning to Wicked's light blue eyes and finally Joker's blue ones that were only a shade darker. They stood there silently, waiting for him to tell them the plan. He glanced off to the left, the Brooklyn Bridge just visible over the rooftops and a longing for home, for a place where he was in control, crept slowly into his heart. "Meet me at Tibby's tomorrow morning, befoah da circulation bell. Make shoah Jack's there."

Ruckus nodded, looking determined to do whatever he said and he moved to leave, "And till then?" He asked, hesitating.

"Just do ya normal, everyday thing." He glanced at the twins, "The same goes for you two."

They nodded and he was surprised at how long they'd been silent. He glanced back at the horizon, thinking about what he'd have to do now and assuming they'd all left to carry out his orders but he was surprised when they spoke.

"Who is she?" Wicked asked, speaking up first.

Joker moved slightly forward to meet his eyes, "Something's changed."

His eyes narrowed, "Didn't I give da two of you orders?"

"Well, this _is_ our normal, everyday thing." Wicked told him.

Joker shared a smirk with her, "Annoying you. We've taken a break from it-"

"—for quite some time since your absence." Wicked finished, and the two of them had him clenching his jaw in irritation.

"Leave. I'll see you tomarrah." He barked, not wanting the constant rambling of these two when he had to deal with Naomi any minute now.

He listened as their footsteps died away and he continued to stand there for at least half an hour, grappling with his anger. Finally, he made his way down the fire escape and climbed through the sitting room window to see her sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the apartment, amazed at how in such a short time this place could come to mean so much to him.

Naomi glanced up, saw him standing there and shut her book before standing up to face him, "Spot…I think it's time we talked about a few things."

"Ya, it is." He said his voice cold and he watched her as she hesitated and met his eyes. He was caught by those enchanting green orbs for a second before he remembered what she'd done, "Foist," He started before she could open her mouth, "Ya gonna tell me everythin' ya know about Brooklyn the last few months."

Honestly, he expected her to say something along the lines of, 'but, I've never been there' and she surprised him when she just stared at him, not even surprised herself that he knew and finally, she began to tell him, without question, everything she knew, "It's complete chaos. No leader's been determined because they're all weak and they're fighting amongst each other. There are rumors that you're living in the sewers, biding your time. Jack thinks the only one who can bring it back together is you. Things are getting out of hand and slipping into Queen's territory and Lighter's gone missing." She finished her voice dull as she let her gaze slide from his.

It angered him that she'd given in so easily.

"Ya lied ta me. Ya betrayed me." He told her finally, staring into her eyes to watch her reaction.

Tears pooled but she blinked them back, "Spot, I was going to tell you. It's not what-"

"Too late." He snapped, interrupting her and looking around for anything he needed to take with him only to find nothing. The clothes on his back, with the exception of his red suspenders, weren't even his; just some left-over's from her father. Slowly, he straightened his spine and even though he'd love to just scream at her, that was not how he handled situations. Cool, calm, and collected, he used soft words to cut her, hoping she'd feel as hurt as he did, "Ya only a little better than my mothah. At least you had the decency to meet my eyes. Thank ya mothah foah me for all she's done. I'm sure she had no idea her daughter was little better than lyin', cheatin' _whore_."

He watched as she flinched back but he turned and walked to the door before he could witness her tears. It went against every part of him to swear like that in front of a lady but then he had to remind himself that she was far from it. Who was she to sneak behind his back and lie to him?

Why, then, had putting her in her place left an empty, cold feeling in the area of his heart?

As he stepped out into the street, he saw down to his left Bea and Mrs. Snow walking and talking amiably as they made their way home. He moved swiftly across the street and ducked into an alley so they wouldn't see him and he watched as they entered the apartment building, the sounds of Bea's laughter echoing across the way to bounce around his alley and taunt him.

Turning his back on the family he'd grown to love he moved down the alley and headed farther into Manhattan making his way towards the Bronx.

It would come as a surprise to most that he wasn't born and bred in Brooklyn. It was his little secret and one he wanted to keep because he truly did not want any association with a place that his family lived. If you could call them a family. He had seen a real family now and it further enforced his hatred of the woman that was technically his mother.

The walk to Riverdale, Bronx took well into the night and when he finally found the house he was looking for he stopped and leaned against the gate to look up at it. Riverdale was the richest part of the Bronx and had circumstances not been against him he could have been the oldest son of a very wealthy couple. He could have called this place home…

Of course, by 'circumstances' he meant his mother. Veronica Masters had been the richest beauty of her time and had been quickly married off to the richest man, Richard Conlon. They'd looked like they had the perfect life, but of course that's never the case. After two years of not conceiving a child, Richard's anger got away with him and he began to beat his pretty wife for being barren.

Three years later, a bitter Veronica Masters-Conlon found herself pregnant. Two months before he was born his father 'fell' down a flight of stairs that resulted in his death. The moment he was born, his mother took one look at his blue eyes, the same eyes his father had had, and told the maids to keep him in the kitchen with them. She told the press he was a still-born, had held a fake funeral and not three months after that had married another, Richard Conlon's best friend, Harry Turner.

She was pregnant almost at once and they lovingly raised their son, Henry, while Spot was forced to sleep in the kitchen until the age of five when his mother, expecting her next child any day, ordered the maids to leave him on the streets. They were kind enough to leave him a loaf of bread before walking away. He remembered that day better than he'd remembered anything. He'd cried as they left him, wondering why his own mother didn't want him. After his tears had dried, he'd begun walking towards what he'd thought was the direction of his home until he'd come across a large bridge, the biggest structure he'd ever seen and he'd marveled at it until the sun had set.

He had crossed the bridge and was met at the end by a much older boy who'd introduced himself as Riddle and consequently brought Spot into Brooklyn as a newsie. No questions asked.

"Spot Conlon." Someone said to the right of him and Spot turned at the familiar voice and met the cool, green-grey eyes of Ratchet, the leader of the Bronx. "Almost didn't believe mine ears when my fox told me you were walking around my territory."

A smirk pulled up the left corner of his mouth. No one would dare use 'bird', his term for spy, so they all had created their own. He gave credit to Ratchet though because foxes were cunning, sly creatures so his made sense where as Queen's term 'rats' didn't nearly sound as good, "My business here doesn't threaten ya territory, Ratchet." He told him coolly.

Ratchet leaned lazily against the same gate as he and Spot silently gave him props. Jack was a close friend of his, he despised Clash, and Red from Staten Island was alright but none of them were even in the league of great leaders like him and Ratchet. Ratchet probably could take Queens quickly and thoroughly with little injury and be remembered for years to come but Spot honestly thought he was wasting his potential here in the Bronx.

"Does Bronx got my back when I reclaim Brooklyn?" He asked, glancing over out of the corner of his eye.

A low chuckle had him raising an eyebrow, "Bronx does." Ratchet said, a smile still in place, "Ain't nobody can handle it like you can, Spot."

The praise gave a nice boost to his ego, especially now when he felt like he needed it most. Another easy silence fell as Spot turned his attention back to the huge house before him. Somewhere in there was the mother who'd given him up because she had been abused by his father, in one of the other rooms was his half-brother, who'd inherit everything he would not and who'd also turned his back on his only brother…

And in one of those rooms was his little half-sister, Bea's age now, who did not even have the slightest clue about his existence. Would she turn from him the same way Henry had? Spot had never given her the chance to try. Being who she was, the daughter of their mother, he was sure she'd cut him just as deeply, if not more so now because he'd come to know Beatrice, so sweet and even-tempered. When he pictured his little sister, he saw Bea's face and it tugged at his heartstrings to know that he'd left there even after Naomi's betrayal.

"Why'd ya choose Bronx when ya coulda had any borough, othah than Brooklyn?" He asked, curiously and attempting to think about anything other than the events of the last few hours.

Ratchet, who'd been in the process of lighting a cigarette, hesitated, took a long drag and then replied shortly, "A girl."

"A girl." Spot deadpanned, wondering if he should respect Ratchet after an answer like that.

The Bronx leader met the former leader of Brooklyn's lightning blue eyes and gave another low chuckle, "She turned out to be no good, but by then I was secure in my leadership. Funny, init? The stuff we do for love. No rhyme or reason." He held out the cigarette.

"I wouldn't know," Spot said, taking the proffered cigarette and inhaling the stale tobacco, "I ain't never loved nobody." But as the words left his mouth, a picture of Naomi came unbidden into his mind and he wondered if that was a lie.

Hours after his chat with Ratchet, Spot found himself in front of Tibby's as the sun began to lighten the sky. The diner itself would be closed till late morning but it was still a good meeting place. Just as he began to grow restless, his lack of sleep catching up with him and his left arm beginning to ache, he caught a glimpse of four people making their way down the street. The tallest was, of course, Jack. Spot hadn't seen him in months, but he hadn't changed much; it was a comfort to know that something's didn't.

Following close on his heels was Ruckus, looking chipper even for the early hour, and bringing up the rear were the twins. Spot knew they weren't twins –weren't even related- but they acted like it enough for them to be known as such.

"Jacky-boy." Spot greeted, returning the spit-shake Jack offered.

Jack, looking rather sleepy and thoroughly confused, replied, "Moinin' Spot. So, ah, what's goin' on?"

Pulling out a cigarette he'd bummed from Ratchet, he took his time lighting it as he debated what to talk to Jack about. He finally answered after exhaling his first cloud of smoke, "Well, I was hopin' you'd let me stay at da Manhattan Lodgin' house till my arm healed and then have my back when I go ta Brooklyn."

Jack ran a hand through his hair, "Yea? And how ya gonna pay the lodgin' house costs? Ya gonna sell?"

"Of course, Jack." Spot snapped.

"You can't-" Began Joker, stepping forward.

"-you'll be seen." Wicked finished, also taking a step closer.

He threw the two a glare, "That'll be my problem ta handle. I need a place ta stay and I need ta pay for lodgin's which means: I sell. Period." He turned his gaze back on Jack as his right hand ached for his cane, missing the familiar heaviness and the way it had become an extension on his arm.

Jack was watching him, "It would have been easier if ya stayed with Naomi-"

"Don't talk about her ta me." Spot cut him off, his lack of sleep making his short temper even shorter.

"But, Spot, we agreed you'd be safest with her until you're bette-"

"That _we_ you're tawkin' about is you and her. Not you and me like it should have been. I don't need to be two-timed and I don't need my decisions made foah me, ya got dat, Kelly?" He watched the surprised flit across Jack's face. Wicked leaned forward and whispered something in his ear and Spot ground his teeth as realization his Jack.

"Woah, Spot, ya mad at her? She didn't do nothing!"

"Sneaking behind my back isn't a betrayal?" He growled, "Don't tell me what I already know, Jack."

Jack glared fiercely, "But you _don't _know, Spot. She came here foah information about you, ta get ta know you better and then she found out the hot watah ya in and she wanted ta _protect_ ya."

"She wasn't protecting me. She brought these three to me and blew everything. Nobody woulda known where I was if she wasn't sneakin' off ta see ya."

Jack shrugged, "It was a tactical error, Spot. She doesn't have experience being sneaky, I know dat. Probably thought her plain looks would go unnoticed-"

"_Plain looks_?" Spot nearly yelled, feeling anger boil in his veins.

Wicked leaned forward and whispered something else in Jack's ear and Joker let out a giggle as Jack's eyes widened and he hastily said, "Spot, calm down."

"Don't ordah me around, Jacky-boy." Spot said in a low tone to try and control his temper a little.

"In any case, Naomi wasn't trying to sell ya out or betray ya. No, close ya trap you need to hear this. At foist, it was curiosity. She wanted ta know how ya got hurt. But, then she hoid how they still keepin' an eye out foah ya so we tawked about how long ta keep ya inside." He paused as Spot opened his mouth to snap something at him just as Joker leaned forward and slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Sir, I think it would be best to just listen and _not_ make comments. Respectfully." He trained his ice blue eyes on her, giving her the coldest glare he could muster before pulling her hand off his mouth, leaning against the wall, and waving at Jack to continue.

"Then she told me how bad ya injured and asked what happens if ya found befoah ya healed. We decided it was best if you weren't found." Jack cast a long look at Ruckus, who'd been silent the entire time, before carrying on, "When she came ta see me yestahday she told me she was worried you'd hate her for what she'd been doing to protect ya." Jack gave Spot a significant look before folding his arms and going quiet.

Spot mulled it over silently as he gazed up at the blue sky that had gotten increasingly lighter with every moment they stood here. It was early in the morning but already it was beginning to heat up and it seemed they were in for another hot one. "Wicked." He said, still watching the sky as a few birds flew overhead.

"Yes?" Wicked asked, stepping forward.

"Stake out Naomi's apartment. Get me if anything suspicious goes on." His eyes fell from the sky to rest on her light blue ones, "I'll be staying at the lodgin' house on Duane Street."

Jack ran another hand through his hair but watched as Wicked went off down the street. "Spot…"

"Don't, Jacky-boy. I've hoid enough. I'm not changin' my mind." They all heard the circulation bell ring and Spot turned and started walking towards it without another word.

Joker and Jack shared a look, "He's got it bad." Jack commented and Joker nodded her head gravely.

"What's he got bad?" Ruckus asked, looking between the two and his leader who was half a block ahead of them.

"When you're older, Ruckus." Joker replied, reaching up to pat him on the head even though she was at least a foot shorter than him.

**A/N: This is a little longer than some of the others but I wanted to get to a few things in this one before starting the next one. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Drop me a review and tell me all your thoughts about it!  
><strong>

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
><strong>


	12. They're gonna push until you give in

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**They're gonna push until you give in"**_

**A/n: Quick note, I had to add a little something that I had not anticipated until I began writing this chapter to the first chapter to get the story to make sense so go back and read the fight scene between Spot and Lighter before reading this. Sorry for any inconvenience!**

Joker and Wicked walked arm in arm down the street taking great care in staying at least five feet back and on the opposite sidewalk as Naomi. The girl's apartment was just coming into view as Joker took a bite of the apple she'd nicked from some red-haired vendor's fruit stand a few blocks back, "It's been three weeks." She commented between her loud, obnoxious chewing.

Wicked raised an eyebrow, "Weren't you raised a lady? What happened to her?"

Ignoring her friend's jab, Joker continued as though she had not been interrupted, "What's he waitin' for? If somethin' _was_ gonna happen, wouldn't it have happened?"

"Not necessarily." Wicked told her in a matter-of-fact voice.

Joker took another loud bite, "Well, wise and all-knowing one, what then is Spot Conlon waiting for?"

Before her counterpart could reply, they both stopped and leaned back against the nearest window in unison as Wicked pulled out a newspaper and hid their faces behind it. Joker took a quick peak over the side to see Naomi stopped and talking to a tall, dark haired man only a year or two older. She gave a low whistle and nudged Wicked, "Prett-y cute, aye Wicked, dearie?"

Rolling her eyes the blonde dropped the newspaper but kept a hawks eye on the two as she told her friend, "Why don't you go sell the evening edition with Race? I'll take this shift."

Grumbling, Joker took her arm back and tossed the core of the apple down the dark alley to her left. "Oh, alright. Only if he's not going to the tracks, though. Wish Ruckus was here to watch her. Not getting enough us time is makin' me cranky."

Chuckling, Wicked gently pushed Joker away, "Race hasn't been going lately because of Brooklyn and would you rather want Ruck's job? No way you're gonna catch me near Brooklyn these days."

"Oh, how true, Soulmate." Joker replied, "Wonder how many he's got now that are loyal to old Spotty-boy. It's been what? Five days since he's been back to report to old high and mighty? Hope the poor kids alright." She finished off her ramblings and began to move down the street, "Catchya later."

"Give Race your love-I mean my love." Wicked laughed as Joker's face turned bright red before she hurried down the street away from her. Glancing back to her objective, Wicked was alarmed to see Naomi had vanished. Hurrying in the direction of the girl's apartment she caught a glimpse of the dark hair before the front door closed behind her. Moving closer, a noise to the left of her had Wicked glancing up the side of the building to see a figure climb through the window from the fire escape into the second floor apartment.

* * *

><p>Naomi walked up the stairs of her apartment building, half her mind on the fact that it had been three weeks and half on where she was going. Every now and then she'd feel herself flash back to that moment when he'd said such awful things to her before leaving. It had hurt, but she had known she'd done him wrong.<p>

Sometimes she wished the tears would fall, but the knowledge that she'd made such mistakes kept her from crying over something as trivial as her broken heart. It was so insignificant compared to the lapse in judgment that she'd committed when she'd gone off behind his back to see Jack Kelly. Even more so when she'd realized that it was _her_ fault that someone from Brooklyn had found him. It hadn't been Spot who brought the wolves to her family, it had been her who'd lead them straight to him.

That was where Spot's view of her betrayal and her own clashed. She knew, without a doubt, that her visits with Jack were not the betrayal. Naomi had not anticipated that seeing Jack would be a red flag for someone to follow her and find Spot. A tactical error that had caused her dearly.

Sighing at these depressing thoughts that had been bouncing around in her mind the last three weeks, she slowly opened the door to her apartment. The first sight that greeted her was a slingshot sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, it's rubber tubes a bright red, the handle a dark wood that went beautifully. It was wonderfully crafted and she was drawn to it every time she walked in the front door.

It had sat in that same spot ever since the night he'd left. Bea had come home, excitement bursting from her as she whispered to Naomi that she'd saved up for two months to get it for him, having remembered he'd lost his before they'd found him. Except he was gone and there was no way for them to get it to him. Bea had been devastated and Naomi found herself telling them the entire story. Her mother had hugged her, assuring her that Spot would come back, that there was no where for him to really go.

But he'd never come back.

Naomi had half a mind to go see Jack, to ask him if he'd heard anything but she didn't have the heart. She felt if she did that she might find out the worst had happened, or that he'd be there and he'd hate her even more for continuing to see Jack when it was the reason he was no longer here to begin with.

Setting her basket on the kitchen she nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice came from her left, "We finally meet."

Sharply turning to face the stranger in her apartment, she tried to keep her voice calm as she asked, "Who are you?"

He gave a low chuckle as he took a step closer, "Lighter Montgomery. Pleasure is all mine." His dark hair was long and cut unevenly, his clothes that of a newsboy, and his eyes were a light brown, nearly yellow when the sun fell on them just so. He tapped a long, black cane with a gold tip on the floor as he prowled around the living room, a slingshot tucked in his back pocket and a key hung around his neck.

Naomi took this all in for a minute, "What do you want?" She knew now who he was. Jack had talked of Lighter, the one who'd craved power such as only Spot held in their newsie world. He'd ganged up on him, five on one and Spot had just barely survived. Anger began to pulse through her veins, masking the fear as memories of Spot lying broken and on the ground covered in blood. This was the man responsible.

"What do I want? Well, that's quite a long list but the only answer that concerns you is...well, you." He turned around at that last word and gave her a roguish grin that sent chills of icy cold terror down her spine.

Surreptitiously, Naomi glanced around for anything that would help her. The slingshot was closest but she had not a clue how to use it, nor did she have ammo. Her eyes strayed farther to the kitchen where a small paring knife lay on the counter from the potatoes she'd cut up earlier for a stew. It wasn't much, but she was willing to try it. "What do you plan to do with me?" She asked, backing away from him slowly.

* * *

><p>Wicked looked frantically up and down the street for any sign of Joker or anyone else who could help. Panicking, she ran down a block to find Mush selling papers to an older woman, "Mush! Mush, thank god! I need you..."She gave a large intake of breath, adrenaline coursing through her as she rushed to tell him, "Need you to go find Spot. Wherever he is. Tell him Naomi's in danger."<p>

"Naomi's in danger. Got it." At once, without question, Mush was tearing off down the street and Wicked found herself at a loss for what to do. Wait for Spot or go back to attempt to help Naomi in anyway?

Only one of these options felt right to her and she took off down the street, back the way she'd come.

* * *

><p>With each step she took backward, Lighter took another forward. "Ya know, from far away ya actually looked pretty...but up close...I thought Spot Conlon would have better taste to tell ya the truth." He mused allowed, continuing to take a step for every one of her backward one's.<p>

She felt the small of her back hit the counter and she reached behind her for the small paring knife, tucking it into her hand so he wouldn't see. Naomi glanced out the window, wondering if anyone would hear her scream from the street but knew that even if she was heard that no one would probably care enough to check for her.

Turning back to meet his eyes, she told him sharply, "Well, he hasn't been here for three weeks so I'm almost positive that he does have better taste."

"Feisty." He laughed, stepping even closer but this time she had no where to go, "Except he hasn't left ya completely. Old Spot's been keepin' an eye on ya and Ise believe it's because you just may be his one weakness."

Without warning, Lighter lunged at her just as Mortimer, who'd appeared shortly after Spot had left three weeks ago, swooped in through the open kitchen window and made a dive bomb at her attacker. "Mortimer!" Naomi yelled, scared for her bird just as Lighter threw out a hand to wave it away.

He managed to hit the small starling and Naomi cried out as the bird went crashing to the floor but she took the opportunity to pull out the paring knife and made her own attempt at taking down the Brooklyn boy.

Lighter grabbed her wrist, years of fighting and living on the street making his reflexes much swifter than her own. He squeezed her wrist and she felt the knife fall from her fingertips as her hand went numb. Still holding onto her, he reached down to grab the knife and peered at it with a blank face before he laughed. "A paring knife?" Glaring, she tried to wrench her hand away from his but his grip was strong. He waved the paring knife in front of her face before gently pressing it on her cheek, "What would ol' Spot do if he knew I'd harmed ya?"

Before she could reply, a figure jumped onto Lighter's back causing the momentum to carry him forward so the paring knife cut deep into her cheek and for a moment she felt the tip graze her tongue as blood began to flood her mouth. The pain excruciating but dimmed as Lighter began to stumble back, the knife pulling out and falling to the floor as he tried to wrestle off the small person on his back.

As he staggered back, Naomi felt the edges of her vision blur. She'd never been in so much pain, being as sheltered as she was. She reached out blindly for anything to stop her from falling into the blackness when her hand hit Lighter's body, still slowly falling back and caught on a bit of twine that was fastened around his neck. The force of his body going backwards and her own going down she felt and heard the string snap. She closed her hand around it in a tight death grip as her body sagged to the floor as the blackness slid across her vision.

The last sounds she heard were footsteps and an enraged yell that sounded vaguely familiar.

**A/N: So, sorry this is short. But, my laptop broke and I had to completely re-write this chapter but I'm quite happy with the way it came out! Leave me a review and tell me what you think!**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
><strong>


	13. We bring it in but we go no further

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**We bring it in but we go no further**__**"**_

"Thank ya, m'am." He said giving the older woman a charming smile, a smile he knew had not reached his eyes.

The lady, dressed in the height of fashion, gave him a disdainful look for a moment before she caught sight of his arm that was still in its sling. A brief flash of pity entered her dark eyes as she replied, rather stiffly, "You're welcome, young man." and he felt his smile drop as he ground his teeth and turned to sell to his next customer. His mood, as surly as ever, had not improved once in the three weeks since he'd left the Snow's and the pity and disdainful looks he got from the upper class did nothing to help.

Handing out his last paper he mused that at the very least his arm upped his business although it was rather difficult holding them and handing them out in turn but of course he was first and foremost a survivor. He moved to sit on the nearest set of steps and take a well needed rest as he contemplated his current situation. The months of relaxation had made getting back into the life of a newsie rather difficult but for reasons he wished not to analyze too closely he could not regret it. He was afraid-yes, afraid- that the time he spent with them had changed him in ways that could be detrimental to his future.

"Spot!" The voice broke him out of his thoughts and he turned to the right to see Mush sprinting down the street towards him. He practically skid to a halt and opened his mouth-

"Excuse me, can I buy a pape?" An elder gentleman asked, cutting off Mush before he could give Spot whatever news had him tearing down the street.

Mush gave him a glare, threw a pape at the man so he had to reach out and catch it before he turned his attention back to Spot, "Wicked just told me that-"

"One paper, please." Another person interrupted him.

"Damnnit!" Much swore, shoving the whole pile at the poor girl before saying, "Naomi'sintrouble!" So fast that the words ran together into one jumbled sentence.

It was enough. Just hearing that one name had Spot running down the street in the direction that would take him to the place he knew so well, only vaguely realizing that Mush was following closely behind him. Later, he'd be thankful for the muscle, but right now he was as frantic as he'd never been. He didn't think he'd ever run so fast and he honestly didn't expect to come flying up the stairs to the Snow's apartment and encounter the scene he came upon.

Spot Conlon did not expect to see Wicked, latched like a leech on Lighter's back by her legs as she pounded her fists on his head. He didn't expect to see Naomi sliding down the counter, landing on the floor as blood poured from some unknown injury.

He did not expect the anger, the consuming fury that flooded his veins at the sight of Naomi hurt. If he had wondered before if these women had changed him, he now knew the truth that they had. Spot had only ever felt this wave of protectiveness for his Brooklyn Newsies and never this strong. A sound akin to that of a growl echoed through the small apartment and he realized as he lunged at Lighter that it was coming from him.

As soon as Lighter had turned to the noise, Wicked caught sight of Spot and slid from the traitor's back as Spot tackled him to the floor, "Check" punch, "on" another blow to Lighter's face, "Naomi." Spot managed to get out to Wicked as he continued to soak the lousy bum beneath him. Though he'd always looked out for himself, he found the thought of Lighter attacking his family to be even more low and repugnant than Lighter going after him personally.

That thought halted his soaking and he sat back to stare down at Lighter, who glared up at him with light brown eyes filled with hate. Lighter turned his head to spit the blood out of his mouth, "Do it, Conlon. Finish it. That's what ya been bidin' ya time for, ainit?"

He picked up his cane that lay next to him on the floor, the familiar weight of it in his hands after so many months relaxed him almost immediately and he hefted it between each hand before bringing the golden tip down on Lighter's head and sending him into unconsciousness. Spot stood up swiftly and gestured Mush, who'd been with Wicked checking on Naomi, over. "Find somethin' ta tie him up with. He shouldn't be out long so when he wakes take him ta Jack."

Once Mush was doing as directed, he moved over to see that Naomi was awake and alert, sitting up with a cloth pressed against her left cheek. He knelt down and softly brushed her hair from her face and took the cloth to wipe away some blood on her chin, "You awright?" He asked softly, meeting those green eyes that had always captivated him. Jack's comment of her plain looks had never been more wrong, he thought silently, because when he looked at her there was nothing plain about her.

She nodded before opening her mouth, "I'll probably need stitches." She said, though he could see that every word caused her pain

That brought out a chuckle, "Always the nurse, huh?"

Naomi managed a brief grin before wincing in another wave of pain.

"Don't tawk. I'll send Wicked here ta get ya mothah." He moved his gaze to Wicked's light blue eyes and caught her looking between them thoughtfully. "Charity Hospital in Midtown."

Wicked nodded and stood to leave, but was stopped by Naomi's hand, "Thank you." She whispered, looking up at the girl.

"I'm sure I did more hurt than help." Wicked said, but nodded her head at Naomi before leaving without another word. Spot watched her before turning back to her. He wanted to ask her what happened, how she'd gotten hurt and why Lighter was in her apartment but he knew he couldn't.

Slowly, he pulled the cloth from her face to examine what had happened; at the very least he could guess. The cut was small, but went so deep into her cheek that the object had to have come out on the other side, the other side being her mouth. He glanced around and she pointed to her left and he saw the small paring knife she always used to cut potatoes laying there covered in blood. Quirking an eyebrow, he lifted it from the floor and showed it to her, "He stabbed ya?" The anger immediately began to thrum through him once more until he saw her shake her head.

"I picked it up to defend myself." She whispered so low he had to lean closer to hear her.

A groan interrupted their brief conversation and Spot turned to watch Lighter open his eyes and look around disoriented. "Take him ta Jack, Mush. I'm gonna stay here with Naomi until her mothah and Wicked get back."

Mush nodded, lifted Lighter to his feet without a word and began to drag him out as Lighter cursed Spot. It was quiet as Lighter's curses grew farther away until silence descended. For a moment, it was quiet until Naomi suddenly gasped and stood to cross the room. Spot stood up to lend a hand as she wobbled for a second before hurrying around the kitchen table and kneeling down on the ground.

He followed her quietly and peered over as she cradled something in her hand. At first, he couldn't think what it was until he looked closer and recognized the small starling. Alarm thrummed through him and just as he opened his mouth to ask her if he was alive, the tiny bird gave a little peep and clambered to its feet in the middle of her palm. They both let out audible sighs of relief.

Mortimer gave another chirp, looked up at Spot and took flight. He soared around the room before landing lightly on his shoulder and gently nipping his ear. Chuckling, Spot met Naomi's eyes and they smiled at each other.

"Only a little stunned." She murmured before standing up and taking a seat at the kitchen table. Spot began to follow suit, but something on the floor caught his eye. His key. He stooped to pick it up.

Naomi saw this, "I'm afraid I reached out for something to grab and my hand caught that. I forgot I was holding it." Of course, she had no idea it had originally belonged to him.

He sat down, setting the key on the table in front of him as a wave of exhaustion swept through him after the rush of adrenaline. Now, after everything, he had a moment to sit back and think on what had happened. More than ever, he was feeling as if he didn't know himself. Had being here for four months changed him so completely? He didn't feel any different, he was still Spot Conlon, the selfish, arrogant King of Brooklyn (well, he wasn't yet but he would reclaim that title). None of that had changed except now he found himself caring about others. Not just his newsies. He'd never had someone that could be held against him. Girls came in and out of his life, it was common knowledge he never settled with one and now there was Naomi.

Naomi.

Running a hand through his hair, he realized his predicament. How did the saying go? You can't have your cake and eat it too?

"What are you thinking about?" Naomi asked, her whispered question bringing him from thinking about a decision that sounded almost painful.

It was hard to meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out before he could answer her question and she continued, "I know I made a stupid mistake. What just happened was what I'd feared but it wasn't you who brought him here. If I had never seen Jack this would have never happened." She stopped abruptly; there was no more to say.

"None of it woulda happened if I'd never came here." He told her gently, unable to keep himself from taking her small hand into his.

Naomi shook her head softly, "It's not like you volunteered to be beaten up. Though I did bring you in even when you said you didn't want help. But, I couldn't leave you out there. Not like that."

"'Too kind for your own good.'" Spot chuckled as he remembered her mother telling him this, "I don't regret ya takin' me in, Naomi. But, I didn't want ya hurt."

"I know. At least Bea and Mother weren't involved."

He felt his face harden, she'd brought up what he didn't want to talk about but knew he had to, "Naomi." Taking his hand from hers, he stood up and fiddled with his cane. His eyes fell on the key that she had reclaimed for him, "I'm goin' back ta Brooklyn. I'm goin' back ta be the leadah again."

It was quiet for so long he felt himself glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting there, back straight, still pressing the bloody cloth to her face. Her gaze was unfocused, as if she were shocked by what he said but even as he watched her she began to nod her head slowly, "I know."

Gritting his teeth for a second, he finally got out the words he knew he didn't want to say, "If I keep seein' ya, you all could be in danger. Bein' a newsie, especially the leadah, has pitfalls. Before, I had no one I cared about but now…" He trailed off, unable to finish this sentence. She didn't need false hope that they could be together.

"I get it." She said, her voice flat, her eyes refusing to meet his.

The silence lasted only an instant before the door opened and Lily Snow came hurrying in, a first aid box clutched in her hands. Wicked stopped in the doorway, looking between the two's closed expressions as Lily began to examine Naomi's injury.

"C'mon." He said quietly, stowing his cane through his suspenders and moving to leave.

Wicked raised an eyebrow, her eyes caught on something behind him. He glanced back as she murmured, "Your key?"

Without another word to either of the women Spot left with Wicked only answering her question when they were out on the street, "It's hers now."

**A/N: So sorry this took forever. I just could NOT write on my mother's computer. But, my laptop's fixed! Yay! I estimate 2 chapters until this story's complete. I hope you all enjoyed this one and thank you thank you thank you for all the lovely reviews! Lemme know your thoughts on this one! **

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
><strong>


	14. Never stops until we give in, give in

**Say When**

"_**Never stops until we give in, give in"**_

_**November**_

"You did it?"

Joker gave Wicked a sardonic look, "Could anyone have done it better?"

"No, you're right. No one can scare other's better than you." Wicked grinned entirely pleased that her plan, however long it took to get underway, was finally starting to provide results.

The brunette looped her arm through her companions' and shivered in the chilly November air, "So, tell me. What happens after we scare away the sick room attendant? How's she going to know there's a new position available?"

"Well, you know the Charity Hospital supplies all the lodging houses with practicing nurses and if you remember from everything I told you…"

Joker's face cracked into a huge grin, "…Naomi's mother works at the Charity Hospital and can therefore get Naomi the job…but-"

"What if someone else gets it? You just scared away Beth, they won't know she quit until tomorrow at least. That's where we come in. We're going to give Mrs. Snow the head's up and Naomi will be first in line." Wicked gave Joker a look that could only be described as the cat got the cream as they both pulled their coats closer and hurried across the Brooklyn Bridge.

* * *

><p>"Naomi, I want you to stop moping. Get up and get dressed. You're coming with me to work today." Her mother's sharp tone brought Naomi from her thoughts and she turned on the couch to meet the angry green eyes that bore into her matching ones.<p>

"I'm not moping." She replied, sullenly, knowing full well she was moping. Her thoughts constantly found their way back to _him_. For the last three months she fretted over what to do, if she should do anything and if it would work or if he'd just walk away from her a third time. Naomi wasn't sure she would be able to handle him walking away again. The last time she had almost gone after him but something had stopped her and ever since she'd kicked herself for not running after him.

It did not help that he felt the need to send Joker and Wicked over to visit her, although they hadn't said he had ordered them to. Not that it mattered because she had grown quite fond of the twins and their unusual relationship. They had more than gladly filled her in on all the events that had taken place in Brooklyn.

Not even a week after the incident with Lighter they had told her he had gone back to Brooklyn to find it swelling with supporters for him. Ruckus had successfully weeded out the ones againsthim and Ruckus and some of the supporters had locked up the four, Midnight, Hint, Tiny, and Shine for safe-keeping until _he_ returned to dish out their punishment.

Though the twins never said it aloud, they often seemed to say things without really stating a fact, it was clear to Naomi that the five, including Lighter, had met a sticky end. The thought should have made Naomi sick, she was a nurse and she deeply valued life but she couldn't summon a bit of grief for the power-hungry boys. All she had felt was the smallest twinge of sadness because even if she didn't agree with the means, those boys were the reason she had met _him_ in the first place.

So, according to Joker, _he_ had successfully reclaimed his kingship. Moreover, to reinforce his dominance, as Joker had jokingly referred to it, he'd had each of the traitors left in one of the boroughs. _That_ had made her a little sick to her stomach but it had been fleeting, as fleeting as the summer, and so here they all were.

She could admit to moping, but at least Naomi hadn't let him get to her completely. She had decided in the beginning of October that she was going to be fine. She continued her chores and she had even been waiting patiently for her mother to tell her about any openings at the hospital. The dark-haired girl was quite sick of having nothing really to do around the apartment. So, when her mother had told her she was going to work with her today she felt a leap of hope bubble up in her chest.

Naomi dressed quickly, pulling on a simple blue and white checkered dress and following her mother and Bea out the door. It was a bright morning but a light layer of frost lay about the city, on the top of the vender stands and along the overhangs of the many businesses. Briefly along the way her mother stopped at Aidan's stand to talk to him, he had taken her on quite a few dates in the last few months and he asked her now for one that night. Lily Snow graciously accepted and Naomi watched in amazement as her mother seemed to light up from the inside.

They continued on their way and she took a few sidelong glances as her mother hummed lightly. Not long after seeing Bea into Mrs. Levy's care, they reached the building that proudly proclaimed the Charity Hospital. The inside was buzzing with activity, nurses going about their duties and one or two doctor's staffed for the night shift walking purposefully up and down the hallways. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they belonged.

A thrill traveled up Naomi's spine at the atmosphere and she instantly fell in love. She looked around in awe as she wondered what on earth her job might consist of.

"Many of the women here are from workhouses." Her mother murmured quietly, "They clean up the soiled linen and do the laundry, scrub the floors and the bed pans. You on the other hand will have a different job, hopefully. If Dr. Dixon will mind doing me a favor…" She trailed off as she walked confidently to a door near the end of the main hall. She knocked twice.

"Come in." A voice called from behind it and Naomi obediently followed her mother inside, closing the door softly behind them as her mother addressed the man.

"Good morning, Dr. Dixon." Lily Snow greeted.

"Ah, Lily, good morning. It is wonderful to see my favorite worker so early. To what do I owe this visit?" He stood when they had entered before re-taking his seat but Naomi had time to see he was rather tall with a small pot belly. Balding and no doubt in his forties, he had a no-nonsense attitude and a rather large mustache.

Lily clasped her hands in front of her while her face became stern, "I have heard that Beth has quit her attendant position. I was wondering if you have filled it."

Dr. Dixon raised an eyebrow, "I have only just gotten word, and I haven't even had time to go through my papers. How did you find out?"

Her mother ignored the question, "You do not even need to look at your paper's, Dr. Dixon. I have the perfect lady for the job."

His mustache twitched as he scrutinized Lily before moving to fixate his rather beady, brown eyes on Naomi standing in front of the door. "Your daughter, I presume?"

Naomi watched her mother throw her shoulders back in pride, "Yes. I have taught her all I know. I understand you will be hesitant because she has had no formal education, but I beg you to consider that I have had it and have passed it along to her. She's as good as me, perhaps better one day given the proper direction by a doctor such as yourself."

This Dr. Dixon was silent as he contemplated the two of them for a rather long time. Naomi began to shift nervously from foot to foot until he suddenly got to his feet. "Follow me, Miss Snow." He said, meeting Naomi's eyes, "Lily, if you would wait here for ten minutes I will give you my answer."

With that said, he left the room and Naomi quickly followed after him. She cast one last nervous look at her mother before she concentrated on the many turns the doctor took. In no time they were in a ward, beds lined up on both sides, many occupied by patients. "We usually hire girls as probationers, and if they succeed in the first month we keep them on as junior nurses. Seeing how you will only be a nurse attendant at a Lodging House, I only need to see that you know the basics."

He stopped before a sick looking older woman who lay on a bed towards the end of the ward, "Today, you are in charge of this one. I will come and check on you at the end of your mother's shift. If I like what you have done, you get the job."

Naomi nodded, looking at the woman on the bed and feeling a sense of determination. True, she didn't know what he meant about working in a Lodging House, was it some kind of inn for travelers? But she did know how to take care of a patient. Without another word from the doctor, she moved forward and checked her patient over quite thoroughly with nimble fingers.

In no time at all, Naomi Snow was in the groove of taking care of a patient. True, she had never worked in the hospital atmosphere but the other nurses were kind in helping her find things she needed. It was possible that news had spread that she was Lily's daughter trying to earn a job and since so many respected her mother they went out of their way to help Naomi in small ways.

As the sun started its descent, Naomi felt the adrenaline starting to fade into a satisfied weariness one often got after a hard day of work. One moment she felt she was even capable enough to heal her and Spot's relationship, a sure sign of the rush of working because for a moment she could think his name without the pain in her chest, and in the next moment she felt tired enough to sleep for a week.

Dr. Dixon came striding down the ward, her mother following closely behind with her head tilted in such a way that Naomi was sure her mother would not leave until she got the job. They stopped in front of her and Dixon took one look at the patient before his mustached face broke into a rather large grin, "You did it. I shouldn't be surprised but finding one nurse as good as Lily let alone two of you…a shame to waist such potential in Brooklyn but I'm confident that once you get the swing of cuts, broken bones and black eyes you'll be brought back here for the more serious stuff."

Of everything the doctor said, only one word seemed to register in Naomi's mind, "B-brooklyn, sir?"

His mustache gave another twitch as he glanced back at her mother, who now wore a rather sheepish grin, "Didn't your mother tell you? The position that is vacant is that of a nurse attendant at the Newsboys' Lodging House in Brooklyn."

**A/N: Bwhahahaha, it seems fate (or in this case, Wicked and Joker) does not want Spot and Naomi to be apart! Hehe, oh and I kept the stuff about nursing as accurate as possible from the research I found online. One or two things had to be changed for my story but otherwise it's pretty close to fact from what I found on a website (if the website itself is factual haa). Well, as always thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter and I hope you all enjoyed this. Please, drop me a review on your thoughts/feelings/etc.**

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
><strong>


	15. Say the word and I will be your man

**~*~ Say When ~*~**

"_**Say the word and I will be your man"**_

He pulled his shabby winter coat closer as he walked along the streets of Brooklyn. It was November; the summer had gone out like a candle in the wind. The warm memories of the summer haze and of life in the little apartment a block from the Brooklyn Bridge were so far from Spot he felt as if they were memories that belonged to someone else. He ached with that thought.

Days, weeks, and months had gone by and still he kicked himself. He shouldn't have left things like that. He should have turned back and made things work. Except it couldn't work; he wouldn't risk her or her family. All he could do was hear about her from Wicked and Joker and from what he'd heard she was fine, although Wicked often hinted that maybe she wasn't as fine as she pretended to be but she kept on going. So, he should be happy she was continuing on with her life.

But he was not.

Spot Conlon was, to put it bluntly, miserable. Not only had he pushed her away he hadn't realized until too late that he loved her. He loved the easy way she could come back with a quip or sarcastic comment, the way she'd raise an eyebrow at him or sing about her cooking…but mostly he loved how easy it had been to be himself around her. She had never known him as the tough, cold leader of Brooklyn and every now and then he wished he wasn't. If only so he could be a guy with a girl.

"Heya, Spot." A voice called out and it was one Spot instantly recognized, even before the kid came into sight. He was leaning against a light pole at the corner of the street up ahead and Spot gave Ruckus a smirk.

"Ruckus. How's it rollin'?" He asked, stopping in front of his newly dubbed second-in-command.

The kid had done more for Spot then any newsie before him and he had gained the position ten-fold after everything was said and done. A lot of the older boys had taken it hard that a fifteen year old had beaten them out for the position but Spot hadn't cared. Ruckus had played his part wonderfully, getting together Spot's supporters while Brooklyn was in turmoil; he'd showed a cunning side that was an equal to his own. The young boy was just as skilled in putting on an act equivalent to some of the greatest stage players and for those two talents alone Spot knew he had his successor.

Ruckus had once fooled even him and with that thought in mind, his decision had been made. It hadn't hurt, either, that while Ruckus had done all that he had remained ever loyal to him and for that Spot would forever be grateful.

The grey-eyed boy nodded his head, more confident now that he was second-in-command than he'd ever been as Spot's secret spy. "Awright. Joker and Wicked are back in Brooklyn. Wicked tells me they just went ta visit Jack and some of da Hattaners."

Spot nodded, wondering if they'd visited Naomi as they had done first on his command but had continued since they had grown fond of her. He felt an itch of jealousy that they could visit Naomi while he had to hear secondhand information.

"Othah news?" He asked, letting his eyes travel behind Ruckus to the Brooklyn Bridge that was just visible above a few of the buildings. He wondered if Naomi was on the roof now, looking at the same structure, perhaps with Mortimer perched on her shoulder. Sometimes he found it ironic that the King of Brooklyn, with birdies at his call, had wound up in the home of a girl who had a bird of her own.

"Clash past on his leadership to his second, Toper. One a ya younger newsies was found soaked in an alley off Tilden Avenue and we got a new nurse in da sick rooms. Few of da boys have already made a pass on her. Should probably deal with dat. Lastly, Jack is havin' a poker night tamarro and invites ya ta come along." Ruckus grew quiet as he finished up his report and Spot was thankful for it. He needed time to sort through the information and process what had to be done.

Tapping his cane lightly, he felt his thoughts begin to drift back to _her_ but he stopped himself just in time. Of course hearing about a new nurse attendant would make her come to mind but this was neither the place nor time. "Good job, Ruck." He murmured as the boy ran a hand through his already messy brown hair. "I'll haveta visit Queens tomarrah so I can welcome the new leadah. Send a boid ta Jack and let him know we'll be there, to expect at the most ten boys. As for the new nurse…I'll deal with that now. Any names on the ones botherin' her?"

Ruckus shrugged, "Most think she's plain looking, othahs just like that she's new. She's young, too. Not like Beth."

Spot couldn't stop the rolling of his eyes. It was true Beth had been an older lady, plump and round faced but the thought of his boys making advances on a helpless girl made his blood boil a bit; maybe because when he thought of nurses he thought instantly of Naomi and any of his boys would have to be suicidal if they were caught doing _that_ to his Naomi.

He shook his head wearily; he had to stop thinking of her as his. It was unhealthy. "Guess I should head there now."

Ruckus nodded but avoided Spot's gaze, "I would. Boys are finishin' up sellin' and word of her is bound to have caused a stir."

Clenching his teeth, Spot turned without another word and began to walk briskly in the direction of the Brooklyn Lodging House. He kept his thoughts light on the way, refusing to fall into the pit of despair that he had so often found himself in these days. If Naomi could act fine, so could he.

About a block from the Lodging House, he saw Joker leaning against a building with a rather large cigar between her lips. "Spot." She said, blowing out a bit of smoke.

"Joker. Didn't know ya smoked cigars." He replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged, "A lot you don't know."

He tapped his cane in slight irritation, "What's that suppose to mean?" Sometimes the twins really got on his nerves.

The brunette chuckled and shook her head, "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."

Without warning, Wicked appeared to his left, "Joker." She had a warning tone before turning to smile at Spot, "Don't you have boys to reprimand?"

Narrowing his eyes, he leaned back slightly to take in the two, "Maybe. But, maybe I should be keeping an eye on you two."

Wicked laughed, "Don't mind us, Spot. We're not up to anything."

He felt the unspoken, 'right now' in the air and continued to look at the two skeptically. "So, you two were in Jackie-boys territory yestahday."

"That a crime?" Joker asked, quirking her own eyebrow.

"Watch ya tone, Joker." He snapped, meeting her eyes and staring her down. Her eyes dropped and she shrugged.

Satisfied, he turned to Wicked who was on occasion the more sensible of the two, "So?"

The blonde leaned against the wall next to her counterpart, "Well, we'd spent so much time there…"

"While you were with the Snow's…" Joker added before taking another pull from the cigar.

Wicked shrugged, "…and we just missed a few of our friends…"

"…and no, we didn't visit Naomi." Joker finished, putting out her cigar on the wall of the building before tucking it into her pocket.

Spot suppressed a sigh, "Awright. Stay outta trouble, I have a few things ta deal with."

"Aye, aye Captain." Joker murmured as she hooked her arm through Wicked's and they began to walk in the opposite direction, whispering to each other.

Scowling, he watched them go until they disappeared in the throng of people that crowded the sidewalks in a late afternoon rush to get home. Turning on his heel, he continued to the Lodging House and took the steps two at a time. He opened the door and came in to a crowded front room, boys lounging on moth eaten couches, some leaning back on wooden chairs and a few sprawled on the floor playing games of marbles or poker.

Quite a few called out greetings and he nodded his head at them as he came to a halt, "Heya, boys. Heard there was a new nurse." He started, the room going quiet almost instantly.

A boy towards the back gave a low whistle, "She's not too hard on da eyes, boss."

Some nodded agreements, while another, called out, "Except dat scar. Kinda bothers me."

"You're one ta tawk." Another called out as nearly all the boys began to talk over each other.

"Shuddup, Frenzy."

"Look at Barker; he's got all kinda scars."

"I'll give _you_ a scar, Lefty."

"You see that hair? Darker than an alley at midnight." Another boy was saying as Spot pounded his cane on the floor in irritation.

Silence descended again so he took this opportunity to warn them off, "I know you boys like ta chase skirts, but she's gonna be our sick room attendant foah quite a while and we don't need any problems so she's off limits, is dat clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Crystal clear." Were among the replied, some apathetic while others were more grudging.

Spot nodded, "Good." He moved up the stairs, determined to tell this girl not to cause any troubles among his boys. He took a right at the top and headed to the room at the end that was the designated sick room. Stopping just outside, he leaned forward when he heard voices come from the inside.

"I'll be able ta use my hand again one day, won't I, miss?" Spot rolled his eyes as he opened the door to see Magic sitting on a chair, the attendant's back to him as she wrapped his hand.

She replied with a touch of irritation and a voice as familiar to him now as his name, "Of course, you merely scraped it."

Magic saw Spot over her shoulder and winked causing Spot to glower at the rogue. "Magic, out."

The cold order caused the charming smile to fall from the boy's face and he hurriedly got up and left, closing the door behind him as Spot watched her shoulders tense. She seemed to be collecting herself before she turned around.

Naomi took his breath away, even wearing something as simple as a nurse's uniform. The dress was a dark blue and she had a white apron over top of it. She wore a white arm band on the left sleeve with a bright, red cross. Her hair was kept up in a white bonnet with a blue bow to match the dress but throughout the day strands had fallen through and now hung in her face. Maybe to some men she'd be considered plain but to Spot she was the most beautiful woman, perhaps because he knew her so well. Knew that she was good to the foundation of her soul and he ached for someone as good and pure to love him when he knew he was neither.

Not that he was blinded to her faults, he knew well enough she was far kinder than she should be, that she was often taken advantage of and that she had a curiosity that could potentially get her hurt. Sometimes she spoke her mind without thinking, something she had in common with Bea although she was mature enough to know when to keep her mouth quiet about certain things.

Those faults paled in comparison to what he loved about her and now he could only stand there staring at her like a fool until she fidgeted with her skirt and murmured a quiet, "Hi."

He took a step closer, looking her over to see that she was fine and that she was for the most part unchanged from his memories of her…except the silvery scar that marred her left cheek. A scar she'd gotten because of him. Without thinking, he walked right up to her and reached out to brush his fingers across it. "Hi." Was all he could think to say.

Her lips parted, as if there was something she wanted to say but she quickly shut them and dropped her eyes. He felt as though he could stare at her for the rest of the day. For the rest of forever.

Suddenly, she reached out a hand to touch his arm, "Has it bothered you?"

Dropping his hand from her face, he shrugged, "Sometimes when it rains it aches. Otherwise, it's just like new." He paused before asking, "What are you doing here?"

A blush crept across her cheeks, "My mother said there was a job available and took me to the hospital with her. Her boss didn't tell me until afterwards that it was a job here…" She trailed off.

"I'm glad." The truth slipped out before he could catch himself.

Her green eyes rose to meet his, "You are?"

It was his turn to look away, "Well, yeah. Naomi, this is what ya always wanted. Ta be a nurse. Gotta start somewhere." He wanted to add that he was more than glad it was here, at his lodging house, but nothing had changed. She would still be in danger if she was his girl.

Except, now she'd be here during the day and he knew he could keep her safe here and perhaps he could walk her home in the evenings…his mind began to show him that maybe it was possible for them to be together. Even if she didn't stay a nurse here forever, it wasn't like he planned to be the leader forever. He already had his successor in line and the best he had left was a year…

Naomi put a hand on his chin and turned him to meet her eyes as she asked him bluntly, "What are you afraid of? What's holding you back?" She seemed to instinctively know that her being in danger was only the half of it.

But the the question succeeded in taking him off guard and as it hung in the air, the last echoes of her soft voice filled his head and it seemed to taunt him as the words repeated over and over again, '_what are you afraid of?_'

He was Spot Conlon, the most famous newsie for goodness sake, but he wasn't infallible. That much had been proven last April. He was as tiny and as insignificant as he'd felt that day he stood on the Brooklyn Bridge. Nor was he fearless, as he use to believe. Because before he didn't have an individual person he cared so much for...but that had changed. She had taken him in without question, had breathed life into him as if he were winter and she the warmth that was summer. But of all the people in this great, big city how could someone as good as Naomi want him?

She'd seen him at his worse, had even spoon fed him. He trusted her as he'd trusted no one else. He wanted to make it work, could not even bare the thought of walking away from her a third time when the last time had been near impossible to do. With that final thought in mind, he took a leap of faith and told her the exact reason, the one he'd never voiced aloud to anyone else because he had never exactly faced it before, "Women want ta use me for my power, or control me. My own mothah didn't want me. Naomi...no one wants to keep _me_."

She stepped forward as soon as that last word left his lips and she laid a hand lightly on his cheek. "I do."

Her large green eyes were incredibly sincere and those two simple words meant everything to him. "Why?" He asked much more harshly than he intended though he almost dared not believe truth in front of him. If she suddenly turned away, it could very well shatter everything.

"I love you." Naomi said it simply, as if there could be no other reason and perhaps there wasn't.

He closed his eyes for a moment before whispering, "I love _you_." He opened his eyes and met hers; needing her to know that and perhaps she could see there that he'd never before spoken those words aloud. After a second he felt his mouth open and he let a few more words tumble out, "Say when and I'll be ya man." Spot Conlon had never felt so vulnerable, not even after being ambushed in a dark alley by five of his newsies.

Naomi Snow, the girl-woman-who'd saved him, protected him and healed him in ways he hadn't even known he was damaged, kissed him lightly on the lips. "When." She whispered just as he wrapped strong arms around her and crushed his lips to hers.

The kiss was hot and sweet at the same time, her lips soft against his and the tasted of cinnamon. He wanted to be as close to her as he could, keep her safe, warm, and never doubting that he loved her. He wanted to always take care of her.

It ended abruptly, both breathing from lack of oxygen but thoughts of earlier worked their way fast into his mind. He turned from her and walked briskly to the door, wrenching it open just as she asked, rather breathlessly and a little injured, "Where are you going?"

"Ta soak the bums who were hittin' on ya." He growled, thinking of Magic and his charming smile being directed at _his_ Naomi.

Her sudden laughter stopped him in his tracks. He turned and looked at her, her body shaking as she watched him with bright green eyes and he remembered Bea saying that her light had gone dim since their father had died. He was unable to stop the sudden full, genuine smile that split across his face as he looked at her because, to him, she looked as if she were glowing as bright as the summer sun.

Forgetting what he had originally set out to do, he walked back and pulled her into his arms, exactly where she belonged. "Thank you." He murmured in her ear as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Thank _you_." Because without meaning to they had both healed each other.

**A/N: There you have it. There may be room for a sequel but at the moment I'm working on a Racetrack story so perhaps I'll re-visit Naomi and Spot later on. I really love some of these characters, Ruckus and Ratchet are definitely at the top (if you've read A Ragged Army you'll have recognized them lol). I hope you all enjoyed this ending. I know it's a little...cheesy? So sweet you have a cavity? Bah, even so I'm a sucker for happy endings and I think they deserved nothing less! Thank you to all who remained with me from the beginning and those who joined in the middle and even those of you who will read it in the future. Feel free to leave me with last thoughts or even to harass/prompt/beg for a sequel! **

**Truly,**

**Joker is Poker with a J~**

**Disclaimer: I only own what you do not recognize. Everything else is property of their respective owners.****  
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